


Sighs of Fire

by Killtheselights, TheLadyoftheHouse



Series: Conceal Me What I Am [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Dark Rey, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Master Rey's Jedi Academy, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, References to Shakespeare, Romance, Romantic Angst, Slow Burn, Space Battles, Space Virgins, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Survival, Takodana, Young Ben Solo, canonverse, solo family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 125,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killtheselights/pseuds/Killtheselights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyoftheHouse/pseuds/TheLadyoftheHouse
Summary: “How does he love me?”“With adorations, fertile tears,With groans that thunder love,with sighs of fire.”During a battle over the Resistance base, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's TIE Silencer is blown out of the sky, and Rey must decide how far she will go to save the galaxy's greatest monster and get the answers she seeks.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are confused, please see my previous story _[Conceal Me What I Am](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242881/chapters/32843100)_ for context.
> 
> Don't have the time to read a novella-length fic and are just here to see what that E rating is about? You know what, fair enough! Here's a summary of _[Conceal Me What I Am](https://kill-these-lights.tumblr.com/post/179098181533/conceal-me-what-i-am-a-synopsis)_ so you can get started on this here fic without any hassle!
> 
> Or just forge on ahead. It really doesn't matter all that much. I believe in you.

_“How does he love me?”_

_"With adorations, fertile tears,_  
_With groans that thunder love,_  
_with sighs of fire.”_

Twelfth Night, or What You Will, I.V.256-258

* * *

 

Rey felt it before she saw it.

The air around her had gone suddenly dry and still, and she felt as if her breath had been sucked out of her chest.

Seconds later, she heard a high-pitched roar and saw a strange, angular black and red TIE fighter drop low into Takodana’s atmosphere, silhouetted against the fiery orange and gold evening sky.

She forced herself to focus her macrobinoculars on the ship, even as nausea threatened to overtake her.

There was no mistaking it: that was Kylo Ren’s TIE Silencer.

Her heart felt as if it was crammed into her throat, and it took all of her strength to keep her purchase on the bough beneath her.

She had to have known, she scolded herself as she watched Poe’s X-Wing disengage from another TIE fighter to pursue this new ship. Kylo was probably on the dreadnought that had been looming over the planet from the onset of the battle. He was likely the one who had ordered the attack.

But now he was in the midst of the fray, she observed. She wondered if it was to lead a new charge or if it was a desperate final attempt at salvation.

When no more fighters came swarming in to accompany the Supreme Leader, she received her answer.

She watched Poe dip and swerve his X-Wing expertly, at times disappearing beneath the treeline and the following second darting up until he was almost perpendicular with the horizon. Kylo Ren’s ship followed with a mechanical roar, sending red bolts into the sky after Poe.

Her heart, which had been beating steadily and calmly throughout the duration of the skirmish, suddenly hammered, as if it would burst out of her chest. She adjusted her grip on the tree and tried to catch her breath, to focus.

She knew she had no reason to fear for her safety. She could easily get down from her perch if the fighting drew too close.

She watched the black ship jerk out of the line of fire from Poe’s ship and hurtle towards the X-Wing. Poe swerved in time. Her chest clenched.

She wasn’t worried about Kylo Ren’s safety. It was impossible. Poe, certainly. She knew he would be fine, though; he was an expert and one hell of a pilot.

 _No,_ she thought. _I can’t be feeling this._

She had been too focused on evacuating the base and preparing for this attack to even think of him as anything beyond a hazy threat; a hateful, distant fantasy so firmly ingrained in her daily routine that it had become a discordant hum in the back of her awareness. She couldn’t even bring herself to remember him as he was on Canto Bight, so many nights ago; holding her close as they danced late into the night, savoring the safety and comfort of each other’s touch. The promises they had whispered to each other on the beach, on the landing pad as they prepared to depart.

How quickly he had broken them once they were separated.

Rey tightened her hands on the bark of the branch beneath her to prevent the memory of his skin from appearing beneath her hands, the rough bark stripping away the memory of tenderness.

She had reached out to him, and he had blocked her out. And now, she realized as she watched him hastily dodge a barrage of fire from Poe’s X-wing, she might be witnessing his last moments.

Her nightly routine had been practically unchanged since she arrived back to Takodana after her secret misadventure on Canto Bight: bid goodnight to her companions, go into her room, and when the rustling nightly preparations in the dormitories had given away to the hush of sleep, Rey slipped out of the base into the forest to her clearing, where she would meditate.

And when she had built up enough courage, she would reach out for him, pull on the vague, invisible thread that connected them, and wait.

She knew the silence would always be there. She knew that the bond they had formed on Starkiller base, that they had explored while she was on Ahch-To, that they had sealed that night on Canto Bight was broken, but she still felt she had to try.

She was far too good at waiting; she hated that she had fallen back on old habits, had once again become that pathetic, sad little girl carving scratches into the hull of a rusting AT-AT walker, dreaming of a dead family and an island and hoping for something to change. But she was still struggling to understand the Force, and this connection between them was the piece that mystified her most of all. At least, that’s what she had told herself.

It had been so easy to put up a barrier between them after the battle on Crait. Now, she wanted to rip it down, and she wouldn’t stop trying until she could feel him one final time.

If she could make him hurt again, for filling her with false hopes, dreams, empathy, love.

She wanted him to suffer as she had.

She could feel her blood boiling in her cheeks. Arching her aching back against the tree trunk for support, she closed her eyes and felt through the Force. Reaching for the thread between her and Kylo Ren, that filament she had tugged at so tentatively for so many nights, she pulled hard and sure, until she could feel to the outer edges of his mind.  
  
_Kylo Ren_ , she called out to him, her mind a jagged claw scratching at his shields.

She wasn’t sure how to address all the anger she felt, how to transfer all the pain through the Force to the roaring black TIE fighter, but before she could continue her assault against his barriers, she felt his response ringing clear.

There was fury, sure; she knew she would feel that. There was always a shadow of fury when Kylo Ren was involved. But there was something unfamiliar; unfamiliar at least, coming from him.

Panic. Worry. Fear. She remembered from the first time she crossed into his mind how his feelings of inadequacy usually manifested as fear before hardening into rage, but now she felt pure, mortifying terror.

She snapped her eyes open and watched the black craft dip and weave again. He was on the defensive.

The Supreme Leader of the galaxy was scared.

She reached out again, gentler, but just as insistent.

_Ben?_

She heard Poe fire the torpedoes, and she opened her eyes just in time to watch the black TIE fighter buckle beneath the impact. The dark craft was quickly engulfed in flames, and though she could tell the pilot was struggling to regain control of the fighter, it began to hurtle towards the forest in front of her.

Rey carefully jumped to her feet on the large branch, her heart again straining in her chest.

She only had one shot at this.

Bracing one hand against the tree trunk, she reached out into the Force for the ship. She struggled against the sheer momentum of it as it rushed towards the treeline. It was all she could do to catch it and slow its fall, but even then, it was much too large and fast for her to control entirely. She wanted to feel for the pilot, but she couldn’t break focus.

She tried to hold on as long as she could, but as it vanished into the forest and she felt the weight of it recede from the Force, she could only hope she had done enough.

Rey tried to catch her breath and steadied herself against the tree as the shockwaves of the crashing ship rocked the landscape around her. She watched the smoke billow from a hole in the canopy. She pulled the macrobinoculars that hung around her neck up to her eyes. According to the distance readout, it wasn’t far, but she couldn’t hesitate. She knew other members of the Resistance ground crew would be trying to get to the crash.

Whether it was for Kylo’s sake or to assuage her own guilt, she didn’t quite yet know, but just like that, Rey felt like a scavenger again, rushing to be the first at a wreck site.

She had spent so many years scaling the innards of scrapped starships that climbing trees was almost second-nature, though she enjoyed the earthy scents of the tree far more than the sour odor of rust and corroded circuitry. Using the Force to feel for branches around her, she felt as if she were falling more than scaling down, but her agile hands guided her along the strongest branches.

When she was far enough down, she leapt carefully to the ground, her feet already bolting towards the small hut across the clearing. The cabin had probably once been used for hunting and trapping, likely by some of the pirates or smugglers who frequented Maz’s castle before its destruction, but the hastily-built structure, already dilapidated, was now abandoned to the wilds. Rey, however, liked the little hideaway not only for its utility, but also because she had discovered that it marked a copse with some of the highest trees in this part of the forest. She had stored her speeder bike in the hut today, but every so often when she would flee into the forest for quiet meditation, she had fallen asleep in it. After so many nights alone on Jakku, sometimes sleeping near so many bodies was suffocating.

No sooner had Rey pulled the speeder through the doorway than she was off, trying to feel through the Force to point her way. Ducking the tall tree trunks, she felt for Kylo Ren. She tugged the thread between them, yanked at it. Nothing. Not even the silence of him pushing her out.

A chill crept through her that was decidedly not from the wind.

She had vowed before not to kill Kylo Ren. His life was not hers to take. And by mistake, in her quest for vengeance against him, she might have just ended his life anyway.

She knew she was coming up on the wrecked TIE from the sudden brightness in the forest, the canopy above punctured where the falling ship had crushed it. She could smell the craft before she saw it; it smelled of ozone and oil and scorched metal, but when she brought her speeder bike to an abrupt halt in front of the wreckage, she was surprised to find that it hadn’t caught fire. Wherever the torpedoes had collided hadn’t caused enough circuitry damage. Rey assured herself that she could assess the craft for salvageable parts later.

Dismounting, she rushed over to the cockpit. The slender black wings had absorbed most of the damage, she could tell; the right wing, which she observed was the likely source of the burning odor, was blown almost completely off, and the left was now crushed, buried deep into the soil where it had skidded to a landing, uprooting several young trees in the process.

Rey gazed hesitantly towards the cracked red viewports of the cage-like cockpit. She was temporarily frightened by how empty it seemed. At last, in the dying light of one of the ship’s computer systems, she was able to make out the unruly black hair covering the face of Kylo Ren.

She assessed the seals on the cockpit, trying to find a spot where the viewport may have bucked. Along one of the octagonal supports, the metal looked warped, crushed from the fighter’s rapid descent. Rey hurried back to her speeder and grabbed her staff. She rammed it into the metal framework and pushed, using the Force to help her pry it open, and with one last determined heave, the hatch released, revealing Kylo Ren’s unconscious form.

Out of instinct, Rey reached for him, but then she pulled her hand back. Memories raced through her mind, threatening to overtake her. The last time she saw him in person was when they were standing on the landing pad in Canto Bight, exchanging breathless promises of love and loyalty between them, no matter what else would come. Before she had turned away, she pressed her hands to his face one last time, to feel him there before her, to know that he was real.

Now he was before her again, and she couldn’t bring herself to touch him.

She knew that there wasn’t the time for her to be squeamish like this, and she chided herself for her cowardice. But the pain in her heart needed to give way soon; his life depended on it, and if she was caught taking mercy on the Supreme Leader, so might hers.

She reached out for him again, and felt into the Force. He was alive; his breathing was shallow. He was unconscious, though she couldn’t yet determine the reason.

The fear and anger had been replaced by a strange, empty peace. Absent an evil voice calling him to the darkness and his own hateful thoughts, she wondered if this was the calmest Ben Solo’s mind had ever been.

 _Not Ben Solo_ , she caught herself. _Kylo Ren_. This was not the Ben she had loved, she reminded herself. She had left that Ben behind on Canto Bight, watching her vanish up the gangplank as she was escorted off-world, and he hadn’t been seen since.

 _And yet._ She looked at him, really seeing him, at his unconscious, slumped form in the pilot’s seat, and she couldn’t help but remember falling asleep on his chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively that night on the beach. How she woke up to see him lit by the sunrise, a look of pure adoration on his scarred face. How she had loved him then, and might still now, if he hadn’t cut her off.

It killed her to save him. It wrecked her to hurt him. But he had done both to her in his own time. She needed to know why.

Summoning a not-inconsiderable amount of strength, she managed to untangle his large limbs and torso from the safety harness, and taking great care to account for the unevenness of the cockpit, stood to her fullest height to try to pull his sizable body out of the vehicle. As she had lifted the rocks on Crait to free the Resistance from the tunnels, she felt through the Force for Kylo’s limp body to lift him, and, placing her free hand on his torso, guide him to the ground.

She knew as soon as his body hit the earth that she was running out of time. She felt through the Force; other scouts were also en route to this spot. A voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to abandon him, she had done enough. But staring at the large form before her, she knew she couldn't leave him again. She had left him before on the Supremacy, and spent every day since wondering if she could have saved him had she taken him with her.

She couldn't leave him again. This time, it would surely mean his death.

She was surprised to discover when she finally let her eyes wander to his face that he was once again wearing a mask. Unlike his old mask, however, this one only covered the lower half of his face, obscuring his jaw with a familiar breathing apparatus. It was edged in chrome plating that framed his eyes, drawing attention to their severity. Her already uneasy gut felt as if it were being balled into knots. She remembered how fixated he had been on hiding his face from the rest of the First Order just mere months ago, taking extreme measures to wear his mask so not to reveal his humanity to the unctious officials who were simultaneously trying to win his favor and plot his demise. Now, he seemed so...exposed.

She didn't have much time to assess his injuries, but there was blood oozing from the top of his muzzle-like mask. Feeling for the release at the back of his neck, she removed it carefully. She felt her fingers curling reflexively through his hair, and felt instantly as if her hands would burn from the intimacy of the gesture. She tossed the mask towards the cockpit without a second glance.

Rey felt along his hip for the hateful black object she knew he always kept on his person. She removed his lightsaber from a small hook on the back of his belt, and attached it to her own.

She probed again through the Force. Other scouts were drawing closer still on their speeder bikes. There wasn’t much time. Remembering an early emergency medical training session from when the Resistance first established their base on Takodana, Rey struggled to throw his lifeless body over her shoulders in a rescue-carry position. However, the shoulder of her tunic kept snagging on the sharp edge of his metal belt.

 _His belt._ She remembered in the hazy dawn on the landing pad on Canto Bight he had mentioned that there were trackers hidden in all First Order officers’ clothing; his were in his belt. She fiddled with the clip and tossed it, too, on the ground in front of the cockpit.

Struggling under Kylo’s weight, she took sluggish steps away from the ship, guiding her speeder to the opposite side of the clearing.

She knew what she had to do, and she summoned the strength to do it.

Through the Force, she traced the various mechanisms of the prototype TIE fighter. She had encountered only a few of these craft on Jakku, but she had seen enough that she could understand the circuitry of this newer model.

 _There._ She found the wire that lead to the fuel line, and with a sharp tug, she caused it to explode.

The ship’s cockpit instantly erupted in flames, sending debris flying upwards through the shattered red viewports and scattering in numerous directions. Rey glanced over her shoulder to see that the mask and belt were being sufficiently immolated.

There was no turning back now, she knew.

She swallowed, choking down the dread rising in her chest.

She could only hope she made the right choice.

Hoisting the lifeless body onto the speeder in front of her, she was able to take off into the forest just as a band of Resistance scouts discovered the flaming, warped wreckage that had been Kylo Ren’s TIE Silencer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to touch him, she gently reminded herself.

Kylo Ren woke to almost total darkness and blinding amounts of pain.

Somewhere, perhaps in the distance, there was a faint glow of light that pulled some of the details of his surroundings into relief, but his body was too sore to do more than lift his head a few centimeters off the ground.

Though he was too disoriented to properly connect with the Force, he could sense movement nearby. There was someone with him.

His first instinct was to defend himself, and his mind screamed at him to fight, but his limbs felt leaden and stiff. His shoulder was so sore he felt as if his arm belonged to another person; he had only felt this much pain once before when it had been punctured by a lightsaber. His leg, on the other hand, was most definitely his, and was most definitely causing the bulk of his agony. He knew if he could even muster the strength to stand, he would be unable to support his own weight. His fighting instincts roared angrily at him for his weakness, his impotence, but he was too physically broken and too exhausted to care.

If this were to be his end, he could only watch it.

He felt as if his lungs would burst in agony, but through dry, cracked lips he managed to rasp out to the dark figure hovering near him, “Who are you?”

The faint glow moved closer; a candle droid, he distantly realized. A face followed soon after, obscured by shadows. He was too worn to register fear of the spectre in front of him, but he did feel his exhausted heart begin to race.

Eventually, his concussion-addled brain cobbled together a familiar face from his glimpses in the half-light.

“Someone who is about to hurt you very much,” Rey said, drawing closer still to him. “Now I’m going to set your leg, so you might want to bite down on this.”

Before he could protest, she shoved a wet rag into his mouth. He could feel the chemicals quickly making his mind even foggier, and the hurt began to ebb away.

But before he sunk away into unconsciousness once more, he felt a searing, crushing pain as his broken left femur was pushed back into place. The agony caused him to black out before the drugs could fully take effect.

 

It was getting dark by the time Rey parked the speeder bike in front of the small wooden hut and dragged Kylo Ren’s limp body inside. She had ridden on the Imperial-era speeder bikes with a passenger before, but never with one who had lost control of their faculties and was suffering from unidentified injuries; she had likely wounded him further in the flight from the crash site. She managed to get far enough away from the wrecked TIE fighter and the swarming Resistance scouts before she had to stop to adjust the large ragdoll form of the Supreme Leader who was slumping to the ground in front of her. She was able to advance just the slightest before she had to stop again and shift his body behind her, using her tunic wraps to bind him to her waist.

Flying more slowly now through the forest, she managed to keep him affixed to the seat long enough that they had advanced three quarters of the way to the destination before she had to stop again. Frustrated, she switched the speeder bike into neutral and just left his limp body sumping on the seat while she walked the hovering vehicle forward through the remaining acreage to the hut.

This was perhaps the first time she could recall missing her bulky, antique twin-engine speeder on Jakku; though it rarely started properly, at least it would have been able to haul both of them to their destination with relative speed. Hiking through the woods on sore, cramped legs was taking Rey longer than she would have liked; she felt guilt and regret consuming her with every step. She forbade herself from abandoning Kylo for dead at the base of every passing tree, but she couldn’t deny the temptation was there, and there were plenty of trees in this forest. However, she had already come this far for answers; to leave him now would mean his blood on her hands. Somehow she wasn’t sure she could live with that.

Rey heaved him off the bike, channeling the Force to help balance his excess weight as she pulled him over the side of the vehicle, and, sliding her hands under his arms, carefully dragged him into the hut, onto the old mattress she kept there for emergencies. With the sunlight waning, she knew she was going to need a little bit of extra light, and she slipped out to grab her pack from the back of the speeder and dig it out.

As she rooted her hand through the bag for her light, she felt the commlink buzz.

“Rey? _Hello-oo._ Why haven’t you been answering?”

Finn’s voice was severe but playful as she picked up the comm. She could sense the slight edge was from worry; when the battle had started and she had mounted her speeder bike from the base, they promised to keep in touch throughout the day, though she knew it wasn’t a promise either of them could realistically keep. Still, it was comforting to know that they were thinking about each other, worrying about one another, no matter what the outcome of the battle would be. Finn had been manning the ion cannons, which had been key to today’s successes. She felt it was too premature to call them victories, exactly, but she had seen the cannons stun a number of the First Order Star Destroyers as they exited hyperspace above the atmosphere.

“Sorry, just finished climbing down from my perch,” she said conversationally, trying to stifle her desire to whisper around the unconscious First Order official just mere footsteps away. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, did you get the message from earlier?”

“In a tree, Finn.”

“Right. Well, First Order retreat is confirmed, and phase two has begun. We are waiting to hear from all the pilots when they land. We sent scouts out to investigate the wrecks, and we should hear back from them soon, too. You, me, and the rest of ground troops are dismissed for the day. Briefing tomorrow, 0600 hours.”

Rey could almost hear Finn’s smile through the comm. “But tonight, we party!”

She couldn’t help the smile growing on her own face. “All right, then. I’ll be back soon. At least for a little while. I’m a bit tired. It’s been a long day. My legs are cramped.”

“From the tree. Got it,” Finn laughed. “We’ll be waiting at the base.”

When the line cut, Rey exhaled deeply, and ran her hand through her hair, smoothing the flyaway pieces against her scalp. She feared what might happen if she left Kylo alone in the hut while she went back to base. She had no idea what was wrong with him, and if he awoke in pain, she couldn’t imagine the kind of havoc he would wreak. She knew that those on the dark side of the Force drew strength from agony; she had seen him summon power from a wound on his side back on Starkiller Base during their first fight. She believed that if Kylo were suffering that badly again, he could easily level this area of the forest; the Resistance would surely know what she had done then.

She couldn’t delay returning to base for long, so she slipped the comm back into her bag, taking out a candledroid out as she did so. Walking back into the hut, she knelt on the empty floor at Kylo’s left side. Turning the light to a dim glow, she shined it onto the shadowy form before her. His hair seemed longer, the dark locks falling in long, loose curls that splayed around his head like a grim halo. His high-necked tunic might have been newer and finer once, but it was now streaked with dirt, mud, and perhaps even some blood from the crash. When she had seen him last, he was slightly disheveled from a night of fighting, dancing, flirting, and sleeping out under the stars, but he had looked practically regal that morning compared to how he looked now.

Though Rey’s medical knowledge was still mostly limited to what she had learned caring for her own wounds from various falls in wrecks on Jakku, she could tell with just a glance that Kylo’s body was damaged. His broad shoulders no longer formed a straight line, but were awkward and uneven. One of his legs seemed to jut out at an odd angle. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she stretched out her hands over Kylo. She felt through the Force to his body, feeling the energy flowing through his bloodstream. She could instantly feel a few aberrations in his body, the wrongness of broken bones and capillaries jarring in their imbalance, though no wounds appeared to still be bleeding profusely.

A heavy dread settled into her core, and she climbed over his splayed limbs to kneel by his head. Her eyes followed the familiar line from his jaw to his forehead, the scar she had given him. She hated how her heart almost broke for him when she looked at it. She hated that her hands could still remember how it felt beneath her fingers when they had been together last. She hated that part of her longed for that man, her Ben, and how even after months apart, she still ached for him, fool that she was.

Tearing her eyes off of his scarred face, she placed her hands against his temples, and breathing deeply, felt through the Force. His mind was mostly blank, his consciousness distant, like a sunken boulder in a large pond; he had been concussed in the crash, she believed, and would need time to recover from that, in addition to whatever else plagued his limbs.

She tried to remember the last time she had encountered Kylo Ren here on Takodana; he had reached through the Force to her mind and put her to sleep until it was time to interrogate her. Given the other abilities of his she had absorbed, she was certain that she possessed that one. Calling to the Force through his mind, she commanded him to rest, sealing his mind away until she had time to treat him. Three hours, she thought, would be enough time to make an appearance with the Resistance and return to this spot. Feeling his consciousness slink impossibly deeper from her, she slipped out of the hut and shut the rickety door behind her, leaving Kylo Ren in complete darkness.

 

As soon as she arrived back at base, Rey knew that slipping away unnoticed wouldn’t be easy. However, once she was wrapped in one of Finn’s famous bear hugs, she almost forgot about her stowaway in the woods.

The celebration was well underway when she entered the base. Though many of the excess rations had been taken off-world as part of the evacuation, apparently a number of Resistance crew members had managed to smuggle some extra snacks and beverages to make a mini-celebration. Several newer Resistance members made a point of staying out of any and all revelry, skulking out of the dorms to loudly declare their comrades’ excitement to be premature and woefully misguided, though more seasoned veterans reminded the greener soldiers to enjoy it while they could; every victory could be their last.

This was not a concern for Rose or Finn, who were eager to recapitulate every detail of the action with Rey, and, in fact, whatever crew member was unfortunate enough to wander into the conversation. Though Finn had been assigned to artillery and Rose was in charge of air support for one of the bomber squadrons, they had enough knowledge between them to piece together some of the major strategic victories they had both contributed to. Between sips from a mug of punch that she realized was likely altered with something distinctly not Resistance-sanctioned, Rey was able to chime in with occasional observations from her several hours viewing the sky through a pair of macrobinoculars.

“Any word yet from Poe?” Rey asked cautiously, attempting to change the subject.

“Nothing from him personally yet, but BB-8 has been dutifully pinging in occasionally to let us know they’re safe,” Rose said.

“He probably hasn’t sent anything because he hasn’t stopped celebrating since the First Order high-tailed it out of here,” Finn said, smirking. “Can’t blame him either.”

“Were they able to confirm whether it was his ship?” Rose lowered her voice severely.

“I don’t know. From what I heard, the scouts weren’t able to find much. Said it was still blazing when they arrived,” Finn replied.

Rey was blessedly able to keep the surprise from her features as she realized what Rose and Finn were discussing.

“But are we sure it was him piloting?” Rose asked.

“Best anyone can guess. It was definitely his TIE, at least.” Finn shrugged. “You could pick that thing out from a parsec off.”

“Who knows how he could have survived a crash like that,” Rose wondered aloud before turning to look at Rey. Finn also turned his gaze to stare at her. They looked at her inquisitively for a minute. Rey’s mind went blank with alarm.

“W-what?” she stammered.

 _Smooth_ , she thought.

However, when Rose spoke again, her voice was a gentle whisper.

“Kylo Ren can use the Force too, right? So...do you think  he could have used the Force to escape the ship before it crashed somehow?”

Rey caught herself before she let out a sigh of relief.

“I guess it’s possible,” she said, speaking slowly in an attempt to sound thoughtful and profound, rather than panicky and nervous as she quickly invented an explanation. “He is quite powerful, and he did stop himself from dying after…”

She decided to allow herself a sad, dramatic pause. Rose and Finn leaned in, transfixed,

“He stopped himself from dying after Chewbacca shot him.” Rey let her voice quiver a bit. “After he murdered Han.”

Finn wrapped his arm protectively around her.

“I know, Rey. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything to save him,” he said, soothingly. She felt dirty for this performance, but once they had mentioned Kylo, she felt utterly exposed, as if her secret was being laid out before her, a cruel joke before they called her in for questioning on suspicion of being a traitor.

She knew her mind was inventing worst-case scenarios, so she allowed herself to be comforted by Finn to shake away some of the hysteria.

“I guess we’ll keep checking the Holos, see if the First Order announces any sort of change in command structure,” Rose said softly, as if trying to brighten the mood with tangible actions.

“Even if Kylo bit it, I don’t think they’d exactly advertise it,” Finn said, still holding onto Rey like she might slide into a puddle on the floor. “The First Order isn’t exactly known for transparency. They’ll be covering this whole day up as long as possible. And since we sent our fleet scattering, they are going to be driving themselves crazy trying to track us for a while.”

Rose popped up to her full height suddenly, as if electrocuted. “Oh, speaking of tracking, it’s almost my turn to take over monitoring the comms,” she said, a slight hint of apology in her voice. “We’ll have to pick this up again later.”

Finn groaned in despair, finally letting go of the no longer grieving Rey.

“Awww, man. You’re the worst party animal. Abandoning Rey and me like this?” he said, no small quantity of mock hurt in his voice.

“Actually, I might be turning in, too,” Rey said, seeing an opportunity to vanish. “It was a long day, and I was…”

“Cramped up in a tree, I know,” Finn said, sighing.

“Well, I was actually going to say ‘baking in the sun,’ but yes, did you know I was in a tree?” she said with a grin, swatting his arm playfully.

“Alright, fair. Both of you get out of my sight,” he jokingly dismissed them with a wave. “Go take care of your responsibilities or sleep or whatever. I’ll still be here being the life of the party when you two choose to join me again!”

Though Finn was eager to keep the celebration going, he was asleep well before Rey left the base again. She peeked at him curled up on a bench in the lounge next to some equally partied-out gunnery techs as she went out once more, her pack filled with what she hoped were the essentials.

When she arrived back to her dorm, she immediately emptied her pack before scouring her room for whatever she could use to care for the wounded man in the woods. Knowing that she had to leave him in the hut for the foreseeable future, she grabbed a spare blanket, a candledroid, an extra canteen for water, a roughly bound book from her bedside, and the pillow from her bed. It was comfortable, sure, but some nights she found it too lavish for her tastes. Too many nights in the desert had made some of the more standard creature comforts feel alien, and she might need it to prop up a broken limb.  
  
The pack satisfactorily stuffed, she began to stow some of the bag’s less conventional contents. She considered the large lightsaber she had somehow managed to smuggle into the base. She felt as if the moment she walked in, the large object in her pack would give her away, but everyone had been too busy celebrating to notice. She had used the weapon once before, only briefly when she took it from Kylo to defend against Snoke. She held the saber in her hands, feeling the distinct heft of it in her grip. It was an ugly, mangled-looking weapon, with wires sticking out and awkward angles and two quilions that made it look painfully antique. Her saber, the one she had inherited by accident from Luke Skywalker, was far more elegant, though this was a useless point of pride; aesthetics aside, she guessed this unwieldy lightsaber likely could still work. She hadn’t figured out how to repair hers yet, and no amount of flipping through the old Jedi texts had given her any sort of clue. She had all but given up; perhaps the Supreme Leader’s weapon, crude as it was, would give her some idea of how to repair her own.

She placed it carefully into her trunk, buried amidst her other trinkets, when an idea struck her. She fished around in the trunk until she was able to pull the black and red cloth from the bottom. It was the first time she had sought it out since the night she returned from Canto Bight and stashed it away, her heart full of hopes that were quickly shattered by her...beloved. Folding the cloak as small as she could manage, she put it into her overstuffed pack and switched off the light.

With the base stripped down to only the essentials following the evacuation, the medical supplies were no longer carefully organized in the med wing closet, but were instead packed haphazardly in shipping crates in the corridor. Given that the droids were busy making rounds with the few patients in the ward and the rest of the Resistance crew in the base was split amongst partying, manning the comms, or sleeping, Rey was able to grab several Bacta patches, bandages, and a few splint kits before her pack was too full. She headed for the hanger, pleased to find that many of the remaining Resistance crew had fallen asleep, even Finn, as boisterous as he had been.

Rey’s flight back to the hut was filled with a newfound sense of dread laying heavy in her gut. She had manipulated her friends’ sympathy for her to disguise her own agenda. She hated herself for it.

Yet here she was, under the cover of darkness, abandoning her post to help the most brutal, violent man in the galaxy.

She wanted to tell herself that Ben Solo, her Ben, the man she had, against all odds, fallen in love with, was still buried beneath the bruised and bloodied skin of Kylo Ren, the vile beast who she could sometimes tame and make use of. She knew she was deluding herself to genuinely believe that.

She parked the speeder away from the hut this time in a copse of trees a short distance away. She grabbed her staff, pulled her pack out of the small compartment behind the seat, and set off toward the hut to begin the long task of treating his many injuries, her feet leaden with dread.

She was saving the life of her worst enemy in an attempt to find the man she had once loved.

It was a terrible decision, but she had to try.

Kylo was still unconscious on the floor of the hut when Rey entered, and she was relieved that he hadn’t stirred in the slightest while she had been gone. She felt into his mind again, and found him where he was still floating far away from the surface of awareness. Plenty of time to get to work.

Stepping over the threshold, she fished out the candledroid from her pack and let it float lazily above her. Once the small room was illuminated, she spread the rest of the contents of her pack on top of the red and black cloak.

She took a few deep breaths to clear the unease that had been roiling within her all day.

Ben Solo would have done the same for her, she knew. He had saved her from Snoke on the Supremacy, when he could have easily killed her and completed his master’s mission. Even more recently, he helped her flee the insurgent attack at Shwa’rarth’s manor on Cantonica. She was mostly unarmed except for a makeshift staff, and he lured all the blaster fire to himself so she could find an exit for them.

She remembered the shadowy figure that had sliced down attackers in the ballroom. That wasn’t her Ben; that was Kylo Ren, too.

She had spent so much time recently trying to separate the men in her thoughts as a way to ward off some of the pain of abandonment. She had felt nothing but love and devotion billowing off him in the Force when they parted; later that night, he would not speak to her, would not even look at her when their minds connected, and cut her off, despite his promises to the contrary not hours before. It had torn her heart in pieces. She couldn't imagine how those had been the same person.

And now he had fallen from the sky, practically into her lap. She knew the Force was full of cruel and capricious ironies, but this one was the most creative form of torture she could imagine it providing.

Pushing the candledroid to hover over his shadowy form, Rey hesistated, unsure how to begin assessing his wounds.

 _You have to touch him,_  she gently reminded herself. She felt a tingle of hesitation spread from her exposed shoulders, under her arm wraps, and down to her fingers. She knew that she had to, and she had more than enough self-control to trust that if she placed her hands upon him, the walls she had been constructing to protect herself from even the memory of him would not instantly crumble. But if she was going to save him, she couldn’t afford to be squeamish any more. Killing him with negligence was just as bad as killing him in deed. She took a deep breath, and began.

Kneeling down next to him, she instinctively reached towards the area with the greatest amount of blood, his mouth. Wrapping her fingers around his chin, she carefully turned his head to examine for any trauma. She couldn’t see any open wounds, but there was a lot of blood around his lips. Pouring some water from a canteen on the corner of a bandage, she gently patted at around his bloodied mouth, attempting to find the source of the wound.

Sure enough, under the layers of red, she found some splotchy purple bruising on his cheek and a thin cut that extended from below his nose to his upper lip. Judging by the positioning of it, she rationalized that it was likely caused by mask digging into his face during the crash or something in the cockpit hitting his face during the battle. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she prepared for the next step. Placing one hand on his chin again, she gently pried his mouth open. His teeth seemed to be in tact, but there was blood pooling in his mouth as well.

Using one finger, Rey carefully pushed his upper lip out of the way so she could view his gums. Unsurprisingly, there was a small gash there as well. When Rey was younger and learning to fight with a staff, she had hit herself in the mouth by accident, and while she blessedly only lost a baby tooth, she cut the gum. It healed rapidly mostly on its own, she observed, as she only had a little salve to put on it at the time.

Of course, Kylo had been injured several hours prior, and already the cut in his mouth seemed fairly small in proportion to the blood in and around it. She released his lip and wiped the saliva on his jacket. If she had any bacta left, she would treat these superficial wounds, but she knew he had much more severe ones to deal with.

Drawing up her courage again, she let her hands come to the collar of his jacket. This tunic was similar to the one he had worn when they met on the Supremacy. She almost felt nostalgic as her hands pried apart the small clasps that formed a line down his throat and chest; she had unbuttoned the collar of his dress tunic when they were together roaming the streets of Canto Bight, and her hands remembered the motions of undressing him with tenderness, with wanting. As she pulled the fabric away from his neck, her eyes danced along the jagged scar the ran down from his jaw. Her heart panged with anguish at the familiarity.

When she reached the clasps by his chest, the impact of the crash on his body became more evident. With his jacket pulled away, she could see how his broad shoulders sloped on the right side, likely due to some sort of fracture. Unclasping more of the jacket, Rey saw splotches of blood seeping through his black undershirt. Perhaps the damage was worse than she feared. She hoped she wasn’t too late.

When the jacket was open, Rey realized she was faced with a new challenge: sliding his body out of the garment so she could properly examine his arms. She sighed with frustration and exertion; it was a already a humid night, and she was not eager to work up any more of a  sweat maneuvering his large form in the cramped, hot cabin.

She tried to stifle the memories of his heat pressed against her on a lavish ballroom floor, months ago and half the galaxy away. Ben Solo dancing with her under a ceiling of lanterns and stars in the streets of Canto Bight, his broad hands on her back practically rooting her to the ground when she just wanted to drift away into him. His large, warm body embracing her as she slept, the ocean waves carrying her to sleep. The moments in which she took delight in this man threatened to undo the harm he had inflicted on her. She had to clear them away.

Returning to her supplies, she grabbed the emergency knife she always kept in her bag. Undressing him was about to become even more uncomfortable for her, but significantly easier. She knelt over his left hand and removed his black glove, remembering the hut on Ahch-To when their minds were connected by the Force. When he had pulled off his glove to touch her hand, to test the limits of their connection. That was a lifetime ago.

She began to tease the knife against his sleeve. The fabric ripped away with minimal effort, and, pulling the cut sleeve away from his skin, she began to slice up the black material, freeing his arm.

Though the skin was dotted with bruises, Rey felt through the Force up his arm, letting her mind become the energy coursing through his bloodstream; no broken bones or major open cuts. Coming to the shoulder of the jacket, she realized she had the option of trying to preserve part of the garment, but ultimately opted against trying to slide Kylo’s arm out of the sleeve hole, and cut the fabric carefully across his chest until his left side was freed.

Shifting around until she was seated in the small space between the wall and the man’s body, she focused on what was obviously the more damaged side of his torso. Again, she began by removing the black leather glove from his hand and working her knife carefully up his sleeve. She was surprised to find as his arm was exposed that above his right wrist, he wore a simple tied piece of some fraying black fabric. She left it alone as she moved the blade up higher. Feeling through him as she slipped the knife upwards, the Force announced to her the cause of his uneven posture; his right clavicle had been broken in two places, the bone fragments resting neatly where they had fractured. A nasty break, to be certain, Rey thought as she sliced the rest of his jacket off until it fell back around him. She could see under the shoulder of his undershirt the pieces of bone laying in skewed lines opposite a perfectly intact clavicle, even and strong. The break seem to lay just under the snaking scar that trailed from jaw to chest; his right shoulder seemed little more than a ragged mess of fractures and wounds.

Rey knew the undershirt would have to go too, rather than risk further disturbing his shattered shoulder by sliding it off. However, as she prepared to cut the shirt off of him, she felt the intimacy of the gesture overwhelming. Expediency was key to addressing his injuries, but she couldn’t help but feel hesitant about her methods; she felt shy, embarrassed, almost, to remove the inner layers of clothing from a man she had once professed love to. Now that same man was unconscious, unable to assent to her care, to her touch, but also unable to recoil from her, to turn away, or reject her once more. She felt like the degree of violation was perhaps permissible given the circumstances, but her heart ached; her desire to save him shouldn’t be this fraught with uncertainty and discomfort.

Decisively, she let the knife slice across both shoulder straps of his undershirt, and, starting at the top of his sternum, she cut a long thin line down his abdomen.

When she peeled the shirt off his chest, mindful of where the fabric stuck to partially coagulated blood, she could see the full extent of the damage he sustained.

There were a number of shallow lesions that had caused the blood to seep through his undershirt, but beyond these nonlethal cuts, his sides were badly bruised. Rey felt through the Force into his body, and could feel that he had several broken ribs on each side, roughly where his belt had been, which explained the shallowness of his breathing. His organs seemed to have been spared the bulk of the trauma, she felt, and as she slowly skated her hands across his skin, she was relieved to find his spine intact. She rolled the high waist of his black pants down to reveal the extent of the purple that dotted his sides, and stood up to fully view his exposed torso. His body was so large, but in this moment it seemed so fragile. She couldn’t smother her tenderness; she let it breathe as she observed her broken patient.

She had known Ben Solo’s mind once. How could he have hurt her so, turned his back on her after what they shared together?

How had they come to this, when they promised to be reunited after their last parting? Why were they only reunited when he was on the brink of death?

How had he been brought so low?

She stepped over him and returned to her supplies, grabbing a few of the bacta patches and the wet bandage she used to wash his face. She wet it some more and began to gently pat at the blood on his chest. The cuts were superficial, and the residual bacta from the patches would clear them in no time. Rey just had to be careful when applying the bacta, lest she run out before treating his most severe injuries. She had grabbed as many as she could carry; she hoped that would be enough.

Removing the first patch from its wrapper, Rey began with his clavicle. She had known several scavengers on Jakku who had fallen and broken that particular bone while trying to catch themselves; not much could be done for it, she had learned through their boisterous complaints at Niima Outpost, but it took a while to heal and you couldn't fully use your arm until the bone on that side was better, which often took a while. She recalled that a sling was the preferred way to keep the appendage immobilized, but that would take more maneuvering than she could currently handle with an unconscious patient in the small space. She balked at the realization that he’d have to wake up eventually. She shook her head free of the thought and returned to her work.

With the dark bruising on his sides, however, she wasn't sure his arm was even close to being his biggest concern. She hadn't felt any punctured lungs, but he was going to feel as if he had been trampled by a herd of Bantha anyway. She carefully placed large patches on each side of his ribcage, smoothing them out until they lay flat against his mottled skin. Touching him didn't thrill her or disgust her in this moment; it was just a necessity to fix him, to ease his pain.

 _It's what a Jedi would do_ , she thought.

If he survived, maybe there was a chance the Resistance would allow him to seek a trial and bring him to proper justice. Of course, they would have to excuse how she came to bring him to them, but she didn't want to think much on it.

She now had to examine his legs, and she was not looking forward to it.

She decided to start with the easy part: the examination. She lighted her hands on his clothing, and felt into the Force for the rhythm of his body, the flow of his blood through him, and could instantly sense where he had been disturbed; he was lucky to be unconscious in this moment, because his left femur was broken.

There was no getting around it now. Rey tugged at each of his large black boots and, loosening the buckles, slid each off one at a time before discarding them in the corner of the cabin. It was strangely humanizing to see him barefoot, she reflected distantly.

She grabbed the knife and began to slice at his left pant leg, pulling away the fabric as she went. Stripping away the ink black fabric, she removed more and more of the facade of Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader and Jedi Killer, to reveal the flawed, mortal man beneath.

The discoloration in his leg made her stomach churn. She knew it was bad, but now she could see the grotesque way the bone had settled. Swallowing the nausea growing in her gut, she finished cutting away the pant leg. She was relieved to see that the evil Dark Force user before her was not above wearing underwear, and she continued the cut up to the waistband until she had sliced clean through his pants. She repeated the process for the right leg, noticing other small bruises dotted his shins and thighs under his dark, wispy leg hair.

She had hated him for being a monster. Now, looking at his damaged body, she resented his humanity.

She carefully pulled away the scraps of clothing from under him, folding what she could into a pile. Nothing was large enough to serve as a blanket, but she thought the rolled fabric might be useful for propping up wounded appendages while they healed.

Like his leg.

What in the Force was she to do about that?

She pushed the candledroid out of the way and leaned in closer over the damaged appendage. She let her hands feel through his skin to the bone and assess the break. The bone was in two pieces, one of which had come out of its alignment in his leg. She recoiled, then took a deep breath.

This was not going to be pleasant.

She turned her back to the nearly nude, nearly dead man near her and took a few steadying breaths.

She hadn’t tried to set any breaks of this size before, and while she trusted the Force, she couldn’t guarantee that she was going to successfully bring his leg back in line. But of course, she had to try.

She dipped the bandage in the extra bacta sloshing around the packaging from the patches she had placed on his ribs. She wasn’t sure if she could use the bacta-soaked fabric for any practical purposes, but she was afraid that the pain she was about to inflict on the man might just rattle the dead for miles around, and she was afraid to waste any of the precious fluid.

She inhaled deeply, slowly, and closed her eyes. He could wake at any moment, she knew, but the thought of having to touch him again, fix him, make him whole, made her apprehensive.

She didn’t wish to punish him for what he had done. Or did she? He had broken her, hurt her heart in ways she wasn’t sure she could survive. She couldn’t deny that, but would she really let him suffer any more from his wounds?

It was not the Jedi way. It was not her way.

She glanced back at him.

She wasn’t sure it was his way, either.

She tried to calm her heart rate, to continue her work, but she felt a sting from the Force.

He was drifting to the surface.

She was not ready to face him, not only out of fear, but out of concern for him; she couldn't bear to see him in pain, and she knew the agony that was to follow. She lowered the light on her candledroid.

She heard his breath escape in pained sighs.

He was awake.

She held the bacta-drenched bandage, a precious relic in her hands.

She summoned her courage. She would try her best.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooooo nurse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should have let me die,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

_"If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant."_

" _If_ you _will not undo what you have done—that is, kill him whom you have recovered—desire it not."_

Twelfth Night, II.I

* * *

 

Kylo’s dreams were furious, and each was worse than the last.

He was a child, in his parent’s apartment on Chandrila screaming out into the night. No one came to comfort him, but the shadows grew larger, greater, and though he struggled to get away, the darkness eventually consumed him whole. The vision shifted.

His uncle, beloved Uncle Luke, once such a revered presence in his life, standing above him with malice and hatred in his eyes. He drew his lightsaber, but the young Kylo was frozen in terror in his bed. There was a flash of green and searing pain, and then the vision ended.

He is in Snoke’s throne room, sparks and ash scattering around him. The room is violently shaking and jerking; the Supremacy is being destroyed.

He stirs, realizing he had been unconscious. The lightsaber. He remembers he had been fighting over it with Rey.

 _Rey._ He can’t let her go. He can’t lose her this time. He has to tell her.

He rolls to his back and tries to stand, but something catches his eye.

She is standing above him.

“Rey,” he says, her name a sigh of relief on his lips. However, there is no compassion on her face. No mercy.

In her hand is his lightsaber. She ignites it.

“Please,” he begs, his throat tight. He can barely move, barely breathe.

“ _Please_ ,” he calls out again, reaching his hand out to her.

Her eyes are dark, cold, and with a flash of red, he finds himself in blinding pain.

But the visions didn’t return.

Instead, he opened his eyes in the semi-darkness of a small room, and the pain from the dream echoed in his body. The room was familiar, his sluggish, strained mind realized. Something about the dim, cramped space was familiar.

He tried to sit up to look around, but his sore body protested with waves of pain. However, as he settled down again, he realized his head was resting on something.

He was not, he understood with some difficulty, in a bed. He was too low to the ground. He was, in fact, on the ground; he had enough spatial awareness to recognize that, at least.

While his brain struggled to make sense of his current situation, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and a glimpse of memory came back to him. His leg. Something had happened to his leg. He couldn’t see it, though; it was under some sort of blanket. He tried to move it, and let out a groan. It was broken, he was certain, but he felt as if something was pinning it down, setting it right.

“Don’t try to move,” came a quiet yet firm voice from the shadows. “Your femur is broken, your clavicle is practically shattered, and I’m pretty sure most of your ribs have turned into dust. The fact that you’re even conscious is a bit of a miracle, but you seem to have a thing about beating the odds.”

Kylo’s eyes darted to the source of the voice. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, it was as if a phantom had stepped out of his dreams; in the corner of the room he recognized the familiar silhouette of a young woman with her back to him.

Though his mouth was dry and his throat was tight, he managed to choke out a name.

“Rey.”

“Kylo.”

Her voice was level, bordering on cold. She turned to face him, her expression impassive in the dim light.

At the sight of her, his emotions surged within him, and came to the verge of boiling over. It was a dangerous concoction of relief, anger, guilt, and hatred that left his chest feeling light but his stomach feeling nauseated. He was too tired and weak to erupt, but he seethed into the Force around him, making it charged with his black temper.

His ship. The battle. He remembered feeling through the Force, fighting to keep his ship stable as it hurtled to the ground before everything went black.

He had survived, somehow.

“You should have let me die,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"You're right," she replied, infuriatingly calm, "I should have. But I didn't."

She shrugged. "And here we are."

He exhaled, desperate to reply, but too exhausted to form the words properly in his raw throat.

After a moment of glaring at the strange ceiling of the room, he managed several sentences.

“Where are we?” he asked, pausing to wet his lips again, and wincing at the cut on his lip as he did so. “And what exactly do you plan to do with me?”

He had been prepared for torture scenarios from his First Order training, but he knew Rey would not follow any sort of wartime protocol; she would doubtlessly make him beg for death in no time at all. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

She chuckled, a smirk contorting her usually sweet mouth. The irony of the situation was not lost on her.

"You're my guest," she said, echoing long ago spoken words in a far away room on a base that was now little more than space dust.

She stood slowly, filtered light and shadows painting over her body in flickered shapes, and approached his side. She looked down at him, her eyes black in the near-darkness.

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're asking," she said, softer now. "I'm not in the habit of torturing people."

"Could have fooled me," he grunted.

Rey exhaled slowly, calling on every ounce of her control to keep calm.

"I know you're hurting. Setting bones is painful business, but I assure you, the alternative would have been much worse in the long run," she replied coolly. "I take no pleasure in the pain of others, Kylo Ren."

Wanting to remove herself from his orbit, she turned her back to him and paced leisurely around the small room. She knelt by her pack, and fished out her canteen. She shook it so he could see.

“Speaking of pain, you might want some of this,” she said said, holding it out for him as if offering her hand in a demonstration of goodwill to a frightened animal. “Unless you want to add dehydration to your list of ailments.”

She crept closer to him, unscrewing the lid. She offered it to him again. He just stared at her.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged, and began to tug it away.

“No,” he grumbled. “I want it. I just…” He shifted his left arm out from under the blanket to reach for the canteen, straining at the movement. He was almost tempted to dehydrate rather than admit his weakness to the cruel, beautiful woman in front of him. He considered the canteen for a moment rather than facing her.

“I can’t sit up.”

She sighed, an exaggerated, put-upon gesture, and knelt next to his head.

“You know you can just ask me for help,” she snapped. She slipped her hand behind his ear to get a grip on his skull. There was little tenderness in her touch, only efficiency.

She tipped the canteen carefully into his open, waiting lips, and he drank greedily from the stream pouring into his mouth, filling his dry mouth and throat. It was cold, a small relief.

After a moment, she stopped, and lowered his head.

“Let's not overdo it,” she muttered, replacing the lid and setting the canteen aside.

Settling back down, he tried to clear his throat. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said quietly, his eyes following her.

She was dressed like she had been on the Supremacy, he realized distantly. Same hairstyle, arm wraps, and the loose fabric wrapped around her torso, but she was wearing what appeared to be some form of Resistance uniform pants and boots.

He felt his bitterness rise at that.

The Resistance. Always ruining things for him. Even Rey. Especially Rey.

She regarded him briefly before returning to her pack.

"And which question was that, the location or my apparently nefarious plans to save your life just so I can kill you later?" she quipped, nonchalant.

She huffed a derisive laugh. "We both know this isn't going anywhere, Kylo; don't insult me or yourself by keeping up the righteous indignation. It doesn't suit you."

He glowered, no closer the any sort of advantageous knowledge of his situation and more than a bit off-put by Rey again using his words against him. He remembered back on Canto Bight that he was the one informing her that he had no intention of killing her after having Bazine bring her to him. He did not like when the shoe was on the other foot.

Looking away from her, he noticed something black in the corner of his eye; his muddied boots were leaning haphazardly against the wall next to him. He shifted his left arm to reach for them when he paused.

“Fine. Next question: Where are my clothes?”

Rey's face darkened nearly imperceptibly in the low light. "I had to...remove them to properly treat your injuries," she said as clinically as she could muster.

She gestured vaguely in his direction. "You'll find what's left of your jacket propping up your shoulder."

He groaned again, sounding more like a frustrated teenager than a gravely injured and slightly inconvenienced galactic leader. Using his good arm, he raised the blanket so he could look at his torso. From the little light in the room, he could see that there were bacta patches dotting his abdomen above the blessedly still-present waistband of his underwear. His sides were blotted with dark bruising, and there were a number of smaller cuts and scrapes that were left untreated..

He let the blanket fall back across his chest at the revelation dawned on him.

His voice returned stronger this time.

“Either the Resistance is more hard-pressed for resources than I thought if you’re the one tasked with administering my care, or this is not a Resistance-sanctioned medical operation,” he said deliberately, letting his dark eyes land on her. “Which is it?”

Rey arched an incredulous eyebrow. "Do you honestly believe that if anyone else in the Resistance pulled you out of that wreckage, you'd be in a Resistance-sanctioned medical facility receiving care? Or alive, for that matter?"

She sighed, leaning against the rough hewn wall and crossing her arms, her gaze cast against the far wall.

"Your life is not mine to take, Kylo Ren," she said quietly. "Although I'm still debating on whether I should continue to waste the bacta on your ungrateful ass."

He snorted, a pained imitation of a laugh. “You could have saved your bacta, though I doubt it’s going to do much good, since you’re not exactly skilled at applying it,” he said bitterly.

He shifted slowly to his side, wincing in pain, and regarded her severely.

“You could have just let me die. And you’d have good reason to. But you didn’t. Why?”

She leveled him with an icy stare, hastily concealed pain evident behind her eyes.

"You know why, Kylo," she whispered.

He smirked, though there was no smile in his eyes. “You’re calling me Kylo now, I see. It’s funny; you’re trying to hurt me. Last time I saw you, you called me Ben Solo. Same intent. Different action,” he said, his tone as cold as her gaze. “I like it."

Rage suddenly flared to life in her, so quick and powerful that she fairly glowed in the half-dark. She pushed off from the wall, looming over him like a vengeful goddess.

"The last time I saw _Ben_ , he called me 'beloved,'" she spat, venom dripping in the endearment. "'Cyar’ika,' he called me, when he promised to be mine forever."

Her knuckles cracked as her fists tightened at her sides, her bones thrumming with fury and months of loneliness.

" _You_ left me, Kylo Ren," she hissed, nearly choking on her emotion.

She stood there, breathing hard, the fire within her banking. Her gaze held his, intense and unwavering.

"One hundred...and ninety-seven," she bit out each number.

His eyes narrowed as he regarded her. He repeated the number as he stared at her. It played on his lips slowly as he tried to decipher the meaning, then it dawned on him.

"You counted the days we were separated?” he asked coldly, an air of mocking in his voice. “Every single one?"

Her form seemed to crumple in on itself. She turned away, picking her pack and rummaging through it, before finding what she was looking for. With a flick of her wrist, the object landed with a soft thump on the bed in front of Kylo. A small roughly bound book glared accusingly up at him. Its owner's stare was far more cutting.

"It's what I do best, it would seem," she muttered hoarsely. "I wait."

It took him several agonizing moments to shift his left arm out from under him, and extend his hand out to the small book. He pulled it close to his head and thumbed through it. Sure enough, there were dozens of small black tally marks in neat rows filling the first several pages.

He stared at it for a moment, his face suddenly blank, his eyes wide with wonder, then he closed the book. He turned his head back to face her.

“I’m impressed with your determination, but I don’t understand your methods. Do you, what, put a tally every morning? Every night before you go to sleep? Do you count yesterday? Or is that already on here?”

He tossed it away from him derisively. “What exactly did you think you were you waiting for?”

Rey's response was so quiet he almost wasn't sure that he'd heard her.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I guess I believed it when you said that we...that I was something worth fighting for." She coughed a soft, bitter laugh to herself. "Looks like no matter how pretty the dress is, I'm still Jakku trash underneath."

Ignoring the protests of pain in his sides, he ran his left hand through his sweat-soaked hair and stared up at the ceiling.

“If you assume this is about how you look in a dress, I’m pleased to say you’re quite off base,” he said, pausing to clear his throat again. “But I wish I could tell you Ben Solo is simply dead, but you’re not that lucky. Neither of us are.”

He turned his gaze back to her. “The bad news is that he’s me, no matter how much either of us try to use other names to suit our own needs.”

"Cut the shit!" she suddenly shouted. She took a few steps closer to the pallet, her face pleading, tears threatening behind her eyes.

"It doesn't matter which name you go by, you swore to me! Kylo, Ben, whoever you are, I don't care! You promised you'd never leave me behind and you did, without barely a second thought! For over six months I've been bleeding where you ripped yourself out of my mind."

She choked on a sob, biting into the heel of her palm to stop the pathetic sound.

"What happened after Canto Bight? Why did you abandon me?"

For the briefest moment, his eyes softened as he looked at her towering over him. When he swallowed, he looked as if he were choking down his own tears. But then he spoke again, shattering the illusion.

“Ah, so that’s the price. That’s what I owe you for saving me?” He laughed, a pained bark that shook his broken body. His eyes were dark and cruel once more.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not paying. Like I said, you should have left me for dead in my ship. Would have been more painless for both of us.”

With a snarled shriek, Rey's hand flew out, coiling tendrils of the Force around the Supreme Leader's throat and into his mind, shattering through any mental defenses his concussed brain might try to throw up. The chill of the Dark Side felt like a soothing balm in her fiery veins, the relief of just _letting go_ flooded her with a shudder. Her fingers twitched and the tendrils tightened, sharpened, and iced over.

 _Is this what you wanted?_ she howled into his mind, half-mad with grief and the euphoria of reconnecting their tattered bond, tears streaming down her cheeks. _You want the Dark? You want me Dark? I could kill you with a thought, betrayer mine. You'd finally get what you've always wanted…_

He writhed first in shock, then in agony. He felt as if he were drowning, but every attempt to reach the surface caused more waves of pain from his ravaged body. But the Darkness, yes, it felt good to him, it filled him, making him feel blissfully whole for a moment before the euphoria quickly wore off. It felt wrong, tainted somehow. And then he felt a deep emptiness and dread as the Dark began to turn against him. It was not his, it was not under his control.

 _Rey_. He couldn’t register shock at her sudden control of the Dark side because he was quickly consumed with terror. Fear he had done this to her, true, and fear of her sudden power, clawing and beating at his broken mind.

Tears of pain and anguish began to flow freely from his eyes as he writhed on the thin mattress.

“Please,” he whispered through his gasps of agony. “End it.”

His whispered plea shot through her heart like a blaster bolt. With their minds so quickly and haphazardly entwined, his every thought and emotion rang against her consciousness in a deafening, muddled cacophony. The only thing she could make out over the din was a repeated phrase.

_Please, Rey, let me die._

The voice sounded like Ben.

As the tears continued to pour down her face, she let the hold on his throat drop, falling to her knees on the floor as the Dark receded from her mind, leaving only his guttering coughs echoing in the hut.

"Ben..." she sobbed quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. "What happened to you..."

His chest heaved as he tried to drink in shallow breaths, but his damaged rib cage only let his lungs expand so far. Pain used to enhance his power; now he was suffering too much to even think. Rey’s Darkness left an icy imprint on his mind and the ghostly feeling of cold hands around his throat.

He couldn’t believe it, but in that moment, he was scared of her.

After several moments, the agony subsided, and he could breathe somewhat regularly again. His tears dried in bitter streaks on his face; hers continued to flow.

Eyes still glued to the rough-hewn ceiling of the small hut, he extended a hand in her direction, carelessly brushing his finger against her boot.

“Please go,” he whispered, his words strangled again.

Without really thinking, her own hand reached for his. Barely a whisper of skin against skin, but the momentary touch cut like a knife through her.

"Ben..." she murmured.

His arm recoiled, and he cradled his hand to his chest, as if he had been struck.

He let his eyes rest on her once more.

“I thought...you said you took... no pleasure in my pain.”

Her tears had stopped, and her face looked worn beyond the scope of her years. The clear hazel of her eyes had dulled, the bruising of sleepless nights ringed her eye sockets, and some of that light within her seemed to have dimmed. Rey stood slowly, shouldered her pack, and made for the door before stopping to look back at him.

"I don't, " she murmured. "But it seems like we just can't stop hurting each other, try as we might not to..."

She turned back to the door, straightening her back decisively.

"Try to rest. I'll be back soon with more provisions."

And without another word, she was gone.

Kylo watched the door shut behind her, feeling the dread return to his heart as she vanished. He called the abandoned candledroid over to his hand using the Force and turned it off, letting the comfort of the darkness and the night blanket him and protect him from his new, unfamiliar surroundings. Beyond the shoddy wooden walls of this hut, strange beasts lurked and birds and insects cried out. Those who wished him dead slumbered in a base some distance away, or else waited on watch for him, blasters at the ready to take their revenge.

And out alone, Rey sped through the dark, still night back to the base. Perhaps she would return as she said, he thought, but he wouldn’t blame her for leaving him there. He almost wished she would.

The depth of what he had done so long ago slowly began to settle on him, as new aches and stiffness began to burrow themselves into his muscles and fragmented bones. Different flavors of pain, each stinging him in a uniquely destructive way.

It had been months since he had cried like this, since the days and weeks following his departure from Rey as he reinforced his heart against her. However, it had been many years since he had cried himself to sleep, and he felt again like a little boy as the tears of sorrow and agony flowed freely from his eyes until a fitful sleep came to claim his ravaged mind and weary body at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lady is back in the house! Presenting for the first time this story, TheLadyoftheHouse as Rey.
> 
> And my dumb ass as Kylo Ben, the Glass Femured Douchebag in the Woods.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were in my head earlier. I felt you there. Go on. Tell me what you saw. Answer your own question."

The trip back to base was blessedly brief. Rey navigated the darkness with little thoughts else except the fastest way back. She almost jumped off the speeder before it completely stopped, desperate to get away from the forest, from the little cabin, from who she had been in that horrible moment.

She managed to bolt back to her room on steady legs and without being intercepted, but the moment she closed her door, she collapsed completely, sinking to the floor and weeping.

She didn’t recognize the creature she had been in that hut, but she recognized that anguish; her pain, the pain she had masked for so long, had manifested itself in the darkest way possible.

She had loved Ben Solo. She would have waited as long as it took for him to return, but she never could have prepared for him to walk away from her so easily. She never could have turned her back on him as he had done to her. His betrayal was a wound that never healed; it had festered, and this, she realized, was the sickness. It had caused her to rot from within.

She had almost killed him. She felt nauseated.

Clutching her stomach and sobbing, she crawled over to her bed, feeling her way through the dark, her eyes blotted out by her tears.

She had longed for him, dreamt of him, and the first time she spoke to him after months apart, she nearly choked him to death. She saved his life, only to almost to end it.

It was only then that she saw again the Ben she had loved, the man who had comforted her on Ahch-To, who had fought for her on the Supremacy, who had cradled her while she slept on Canto Bight. And the man she loved wanted to die.

She could barely remember that man now. He was poison, a toxin destroying her from inside.

He had planted those seeds of darkness in her, she thought, and they had grown like weeds, consuming them both.

That wasn’t true, and she knew it. She had her own Darkness; she had seen it before, a powerful fear lurking within her, hollowing her out in a way that starvation couldn’t. But it had never manifested quite like this.

She hadn’t meant to hurt him like that, but just wanted him to feel her pain, to know what kind of damage he had done in his heartless way.

Maybe she had underestimated what her pain had truly felt like.

But, despite it all, she had saved his life.

She curled up on her side and buried her face in her knees. He was her responsibility now. Her problem. She took his life in her hands, had kept him alive, and now he was dependent on her.

She was bringing this fresh agony on herself.

He had saved her life on several occasions, and he had been on the brink of losing his.

She had seen his battered body, once so powerful, so destructive, now a mess of cuts, shattered bones, and dark purple bruises that were almost the color of his hair.

She saw the blood caking the lips she had kissed so lovingly not even a year ago. She touched those hands that had held hers, caressed her, cupped her face and swore an oath of love.

Was that Ben Solo or Kylo Ren?  
  
_If you think that Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are two different people, I don’t have any good news for you._

He swore they were one and the same, but she couldn’t imagine the man whose mind she had seen–the one who was so lonely and desperate for someone in the galaxy to see him as he was– was the same that would promise her love only to discard her after mere hours apart.

In the midst of the darkness, she had glimpsed that lonely, beautiful man hidden in the shadows of the crueler tyrant who had sniped at her.

Which voice had goaded her into a rage? And which had begged for death? And why?

Why would he ask of her what she could not willingly give?

It was late, but she had to fight to fall asleep. All she could hear were the cries of her beloved, begging for death at her hand.

She imagined herself back to a ballroom on a planet far away, and tried to let the waltz sweep her into a dream.

  


Morning came uncomfortably early, and the guilt of the previous night had barely waned. She wasn’t looking forward to facing him again, but she had time before she had to see him; she had a meeting with the rest of the base crew review the previous day's battle.

In the shower, she tried to invent excuses for her behavior, but she could think of none but this: she had lashed out in pain at Ben Solo’s betrayal, and something wicked, a horrible force she hadn’t known before, had erupted from within her, one that she would never willingly unleash again. But she couldn’t figure out how to make that up to him, not while he was dead set on causing her just as much anguish with his sharp tongue.

She willed the hot water to scald the night before away, and by the time she arrived at the morning briefing, she began to feel a bit more strengthened in her resolve to approach him distantly, coldly: as harshly as he had treated her. At least until she got to the bottom of what had happened to make him cut her off so soon after he promised to keep her close.

She would do it for however long it took to draw out her Ben, the one she knew still lived, from the dark, mangled wreck of a human that lay on the pallet in the forest.

Due to the combination of the stress of battle the day before and the rigorous celebration the night before, the assembled Resistance crew at the briefing were just as groggy as Rey herself. The lone, effervescent exception, of course, was Finn, who eagerly waved to her as she walked in the room. Rose, who had had the overnight shift, was excused from the meeting.

These briefings were always succinct, which Rey found a blessed relief, and within minutes of everyone sitting on the benches that ringed the sides of the round room, the assembled generals were recapitulating the major details of the battle. This was a positive briefing, to the degree that a battle could be positive; the First Order had sustained heavy casualties, both in number of lives and major equipment.

“Intelligence reports suggest that our efforts to deceive the First Order have been an overall success,” a young admiral proudly reported. “They retreated from the decoy base and have been scrambling to track our fighters across a number of systems. All pilots checked in from the first legs of their journeys within the last twelve hours, and few have reporting seeing any sign of First Order ships trailing.”

The pronouncement was met with relieved sighs and a few cheers.

One of the gunnery techs raised his hand before blurting out, “What’s happening here, then?”

“I was just getting to that,” the admiral said, her eyebrow raised with irritation. “We are to remain stationed here for the time being. Escape craft will be maintained constantly to allow for emergency evacuations in the event of First Order retaliation, but we believe the message we sent them is clear.”

“And what about Kylo Ren?”

The voice came from next to Rey. She looked over hesitantly. Finn was staring at the admiral as he added, “He’s dead, right?”

A holo image was cued up behind the admiral. It was Kylo Ren in his full mask and helmet, perhaps taken the last time he had been on this planet. Rey felt a knot writhe in her gut, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She knew that mask. She knew the face it hid. She remembered hearing the hiss as the helmet was released, as she saw his warm, sad eyes beneath it.

She hated it with all her being, but she loved it with all her heart.  
  
“As far as we know, yes,” said the admiral, snapping Rey back to attention.

“What about the rumors that there were no remains at the crash site?” someone behind them shouted. The admiral, a consummate professional, looked bored at the interruption.  
  
“The rumors are just paranoia, likely brought on by exhaustion and some illicit liquor that has been floating around the base,” she said, lips pursed. “The fighter identified as Kylo Ren’s TIE Silencer entered the battle yesterday, not long before the First Order’s retreat, and was struck down soon after entering the atmosphere. According to the reconnaissance team, his ship’s fuel engine line had ruptured, resulting in immolation. There was no body recovered from the wreckage last night, as it was too hot to investigate properly. The team will return this morning and report on the status of the body of the former Supreme Leader.”

Former Supreme Leader. Whatever else was said in the meeting was drowned out by these words. Rey spun the phrase over and over again in her head. It was if she were hearing her worst fear. It was as if Ben Solo really was dead, as if she had choked the life out of him for real. She knew he was in the cabin, but she had to school her face to hide the torrent of emotions that ate away at her from revealing themselves to the assembled Resistance brass.  
  
A voice shook her from her thoughts: they were being given assignments. She listened for her name. She heard it rattled off alongside a few others she vaguely recognized.

“Report here at 1400 hours. You are on the recovery team this afternoon. Dismissed until that time.”

Rey wasn’t entirely sure what her duties would consist of, but she had her instructions. And better than that, she had time.

“Aw, man,” Finn said. “You, me, and Rose aren’t going to get to spend any time together if they keep scheduling us in different rotations like this.”

Rey smiled, trying to be nonchalant. “Well, at least we know it won’t last forever.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “But what if I want to spend time with you sooner rather than later?”

She shoved his shoulder playfully. “You can think of nothing else but wasting time with us, even when there’s a war on?”

He looked thoughtfully for a moment.  
  
“Nope. I can’t help but think of what exactly I’m fighting for,” he said, beaming at her again.

After exchanging a quick but firm hug and reminding Rey to get some rest, he took off with the gunnery maintenance crew.  
  
Once the hallways were mostly clear, Rey packed her bag, grabbing a few additional supplies, and began to take off herself.

  


He dreamt again, though this time he could not tell when the visions began or ended. They seemed to run together endlessly, but all of them were about her.

Rey, that night on the dance floor, dancing, smiling at him, her face alive and loving, then Rey on the dance floor not dancing, running for her life. The insurgents beginning to open fire on the balcony outside. He was trying to stop the rebels running down the stairs, but his limbs felt heavy, mechanical, even. She tried to run as the glass windows shattered around her, but the glass and blaster fire rained down on her. He screamed. He could not run to her. She fell hard, and was still. The insurgents kept firing. All was chaos.

She was on the dance floor, she was standing, she was dancing, she was blessedly alive. The ballroom floor was full. He was watching her. She was not dancing with him, smiling with him. She was dancing with the elder Soruta brother. He seethed. Bodies whirled around him as he strode over to her.

She was no longer dancing. The younger brother had his hands on her, jerking her by her wrist, throwing her to the ground. He wanted to fight, to strike the monster down, but with what weapon? What power? He could not feel the Force, and his lightsaber would not find his hand. The indifferent crowd continued to swirl around him while he watched Rey struggle, and he could not help her. He turned away, and ran.

He ran into the streets of the city, Rey’s fingers woven through his. The beautiful stone streets and alleyways twisted. She turned back to him and laughed her powerful, beautiful laugh. He saw the danger before she could. She pulled free from his hand. He cried out but she kept running. Straight into a battalion of First Order troopers. He heard the blaster fire. He heard her scream.

He cried out but she kept running. Straight into a battalion of First Order troopers. They grabbed her. She struggled. She cried out for him.

“ _B_ _en!_ ”

The name echoed in his mind. She screamed it over and over. A black hand wrapped around her throat and dragged her away through the parting stormtroopers until she was out of view.

He looked at the figure as it stalked away. It was a man in black in a familiar mask. It was Kylo Ren. It was him.

He ran into the crowd after her, and was quickly smothered by the white armor. When he could see again, he was no longer in the streets of Canto Bight. The world was hazy and shadow-streaked. He could not move; his hands were immobile, as if they were bound in front of him.

There was a voice, commanding and familiar, calling out his name. Not his name. His birth name.

General Organa.

He knew her tone before he could even make out the words: she was giving a pronouncement.

“ _For your crimes against the New Republic and the galaxy, I hereby sentence you to death._ ”

He looked up. The light shifted, and he could see Rey striding towards him, towering over him, her expression unreadable in the half-light.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” he said. “ _I had to turn myself in._ ”

Her face, usually so beautiful, was twisted, warped. Her mouth seemed a monstrous slit across her cheeks, too long to be hers.

A cold, scornful chuckle rippled from Rey's distorted lips.

_"You're sorry?"_  she barked. " _Sorry isn't going to save your miserable hide, Ben Solo. You're well past saving now. There's nothing left of you to redeem._ "

She grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back to stare into her disfigured face, eyes hard like cloudy quartz.

" _You ruined me, Ben,_ " she murmured, her voice suddenly soft and sad. " _You did this to me._ "

She stepped away from him, his eyes following her like the desperate man he was. She withdrew a familiar black object from her belt. His lightsaber. She studied it briefly before holding it close to her breast, her gaze fixed on him.

" _It's all your fault, Ben,_ " she whispered.

Rey flipped her grip on the saber and ignited it, straight into her heart.

An inhuman wail drowned out his hearing; he didn’t have the sense to realize until moments later that it was his. He screamed and cried her name as his sight went hazy again, until he could see nothing but the light and darkness and Rey’s shadowy form still standing before him. He tried to rise, to reach for her, but pain overtook his body, rippling across his shoulders and clutching around his sides.

His throat was sore and raw, but as he fell backward in pain, he whimpered her name.

Her eyes widened at the sound and she practically flew to his side, the anguish of the previous day forgotten at the sight of him. Her hands tentatively reached out to touch his face, pushing sweat-dampened hair away from his feverish forehead.

"Ben? Ben, it's okay, I'm here," she whispered, vaguely wondering if that was a good thing or not. "Shhh, you're safe, it's alright..."

A pang of guilt ran through her. Had she been a few moments earlier, maybe she could have prevented some of his suffering. Sensing his near-wakefulness outside the hut, she had hesitated on the threshold. She couldn't face him; the darkness of her actions the previous night sat like poison in the pit of her stomach. But then, hearing his tormented screams, she couldn't leave him to suffer alone.

His body thrashed as he writhed in anguish both real and imagined. His fingers clawed at her hands on his face, desperate for purchase on something, anything tangible. His dark eyes appeared unseeing, as if they were gazing straight past her, or even through her. In truth, while the dreams were breaking, his vision was too clouded by pain and tears to see what was happening in front of him.

“No,” he rasped, his chest rising and falling again as his shattered ribs choked off the air in his lungs. “You’re not here. This isn’t…”

The words failed and he shook his head.

“Rey,” he gasped her name again, his face scrunching up in sorrow. “No...”

Biting back her own tears, she pressed her forehead against his, wrapping her Force signature around them both.

"I'm here, beloved," she whispered. "It's alright, I'm here. You're safe, Ben, you're safe."

He gasped again, but this time as one coming up for air. The Force swirling through him cleared the vivid nightmares from his addled mind. His hand gripped Rey’s tighter as his eyes seemed to focus again. Her face began to appear before him, clear and without malice.

“You’re here?” he murmured.

She smiled softly, brushing his tears away with a gentle swipe of her fingers.

"I've got you, love," she replied.

His hand lazily shot out towards her shoulder, and he tugged gently a lock of her hair that fell over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled dreamily. "Please stay. I didn't mean for this."

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised, disentangling herself from his grasp as gently as she could. "I'm just going to check on your wounds first, okay?"

He gave a slight, groggy nod and seemed to sink back into the tangle of blankets and clothing that made for his bed.

She smiled down at him, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning to her work.

Most of the superficial wounds seemed to be on their way to healing already; thin black scabs crosshatching the high points of his torso, dark bruises blooming along his ribs, collarbone, and leg where the deepest injuries lurked beneath his muscles. Passing a Force-gloved hand over each break to assess for any deeper changes, she found no signs of infection aside from the inflammation that came with freshly broken bones. He wasn't fever warm, she noted as she pressed the back of her hand to his brow, but the stress of whatever he had dreamt about had spiked his body heat.

As she felt along his abdomen and limbs, he seemed to become first more present, his awareness of his surroundings becoming more acute, but then he grew sullen once more, turning away from Rey as she felt along his skin.

He was ashamed; he had exposed one of his greatest vulnerabilities to her in a moment of weakness, and even more than that, he _had_ been afraid, terrified in her presence. Everything he had worked so hard for was going to fall apart before him. He couldn’t let it happen; he had sacrificed so much already to steel himself against her. His nightmare, hallucination, whatever it was had possibly undone all that effort.

She had called him “Ben” again.   
  
Sensing the sudden shift in his mood, she lightened her touch.

"I'm sorry, Ben," she murmured, "about last night."

She ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes.

"Forgive me for my actions, it was not like me," she said, suddenly feeling the need to be formal. "I was not myself."

His eyes suddenly grew very intent on the wall of the cabin as Rey shifted the blanket aside and began working on his left leg.

“I’m Ben now?” he muttered, his voice barely a growl in the cramped space.

She stiffened. The name had slipped out as easy as breathing. Seeing him vulnerable, hurt... _open_ , had wrenched it out of the tender place in her heart where she kept Ben Solo.   
  
“You didn’t seem to care six months ago,” she retorted quietly, the barb barely enough to sting.

"Well, in the same way that you weren't yourself when you reached into the Dark Side to strangle me, I wasn't quite myself when you last called me Ben," he said, avoiding her gaze. "Let's call it even."

Rey exhaled sharply.  
  
"That was a mistake," she said, prodding his leg perhaps a bit harder than she had meant to. “One I will not be repeating, because I actually learn from my mistakes.”

He grunted, a barely suppressed yelp of pain.  
  
"A mistake? I know a few things about mistakes. That was not a mistake," he said coldly. "A mistake was bringing you to Canto Bight and pretending that I loved you. What you did was powerful.”

He met her eyes finally, his expression savage.

“I know you can do it again."

His words cut through her with shattering accuracy. She knew he said it to hurt her, but there’d always been a cruel little shard of her heart that never truly believed that he loved her. This was just confirmation of that hateful little whisper. The Force crackled against her knuckles in response, sparking where she touched his mangled body. Taking a shuddering breath to rein in her pain, she pulled the old bacta patch from his bruised ribs.   
  
“Power...” she muttered. “It’s always power with you.”   
  
Her eyes flicked up to his, bright with fresh hurt.   
  
“You once told me that my greatest power came from my knowledge of myself. _You_ sought me out for that power six months ago. I know who I am and I am no Dark Sider.”   
  
The vindictive fury she felt the night before was creeping up on her, licking at her spine with its icy seduction. She shoved it aside while she focused on reapplying fresh bacta on his ribs.   
  
“I know who I am, _Kylo Ren_ ,” she sneered. “Can you say the same?”

Though his body now burned under her touch, his eyes didn't break away from hers.  
  
"You can do it again. You can summon that Darkness at any time, and we both know it," he said. "You don't learn from your mistakes, you nourish them. I am living proof."   
  
“Really? You honestly want me to start strangling you again?” She scoffed. “I know Sith were masochistic, but this is bordering on obscene,” she said, pressing the patch firmly into his side.   
  
She paused in her ministrations for a moment, her eyes intent on his face.

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean it like _that_."

His good arm gestured at his bruised body. "I am this. At the end of the day, I'm a tool of the Force. I know how to channel the Dark and the Light. I'm comfortable with that fact. Are you? Can you live with that knowledge of yourself?"

She soaked in his words, carefully schooling her face into a neutral expression.

“I’ve had to live with only myself for my whole life. My actions and decisions have not always been the paragon of Light, but I live with it. I’m achingly aware of what I am capable of. Dark and Light reside within me, I own that, and I’m...I’m trying to learn how to balance the two sides. That kind of Darkness is not me.”  
  
Rey was silent for a moment, letting her words hang in the humid morning air.

He shifted so she was under his stare. "You call what you did last night balance? Poisoning my mind and choking me is your idea of coexisting with the Dark and the Light?"  
  
"Is that what you think of me?" she asked quietly. "Out of control, sadistic, delighting in the pain of others? Is that really who you think I am?”   
  
His voice was a low growl. "You showed me the surface of what you truly are. I want to see how deep it goes," he said. "Because I think that Darkness is exactly you."   
  
He leaned his head back so his eyes were on the ceiling, and his pale throat was exposed to her like a subordinate pack animal.

"Go ahead. Do your worst."

An eyebrow arched and she yanked the bacta patch off his collarbone.  
  
"You are so full of it, you giant Sith punching bag," she muttered peevishly as she worked. "Can't we just have a conversation without wallowing in angst-riddled introspection? How do you even have the energy to argue about this?"

“Sith?” He laughed, a pained bark of amusement. “Where did you learn that word? Did Luke teach it to you?”

"I'll have you know that I read it, thank you very much," she retorted, indignant. "Your _uncle_ barely said a hundred words to me when I saw him and half of them were 'go away.'"

"Ah. Sounds like I really got to him," he said, a devious smirk of pride tugged at his mouth, and he broke out into a sardonic laugh.  
  
"But a Sith? A _Sith_? Either you don't know your history very well or you don't know me. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't know either,” he said, smirk growing larger and more sinister. “If I was really a Sith, you wouldn't have bothered to save my life unless you had a more creative way of killing me in your back pocket. I would have been much too dangerous to be kept alive, even injured."

"Why are you so hell-bent on me killing you?!" she demanded. "Do you really have so little respect for yourself? For me?"   
  
She inspected the clavicle break with more focus than she needed to, anything to keep from looking at his smug face. Rey was surprised that his thrashing around in his sleep hadn't done more damage. Tearing open a new patch with her teeth, she pressed it into the bump of broken bone.   
  
"Besides you're about as dangerous as a declawed loth-cat right now, so I'll take my chances with your broody ass," she muttered.

He considered briefly Force-throwing her pack around the room just to remind her that he wasn't entirely harmless in his injured state, but a mild gesture like that would do little more than indicate just how absolutely toothless he was. After all, he was still flat on his back and in pain.

He wanted to see the Darkness in her again, so maybe she would not be so afraid of it. Of him. If she could control her own Dark side, she might understand him better. But that was a weak hope. He knew it.  
  
"You were in my head earlier. I felt you there. Go on. Tell me what you saw. Answer your own question."

His right hand grabbed hers from off the bacta patch and placed it on his head. "Tell me."

She started, his touch burned at her wrist as she failed to twist away from him. Ben's voice pleading in her head had haunted her every moment since she bolted from the cabin the night before. Even now, it made her eyes sting. But he was warm beneath her fingers and the memory of his embrace on Canto Bight softened her own touch.   
  
"You were begging for death," she replied quietly, sadly. "'Please, Rey, let me die,' you said. But...I can't...your life is not mine to take."   
  
She caught his gaze, holding his attention with her own steel and her hand in his hair.   
  
"You only got one chance to die by my hand, Ben Solo, and you were too stubborn to take it. I'm too stubborn to repeat myself. So we're at an impasse."

He released his grip on her hand and let his right arm fall to his chest again.   
  
"Then you should go," he said, the fire suddenly gone from his voice. “Be with your Resistance. You wouldn’t want them know that their pet Jedi is harboring their worst enemy."

She shifted, removing her hand from his head, resisting the urge to stroke his hair. She sat back on the floor beside him, not saying a word.   
  
"I don't have anywhere to be until later," she said noncommittally and settled into a meditative stance.   
  
Then she smiled, small and almost...pitying.   
  
"Besides, you asked me to stay earlier, so here I'll stay."   
  
Then she closed her eyes and opened herself to the Force, breathing into her meditation.

He grunted in displeasure and turned away from the small woman as much as he could, his face resting above his propped-up, injured right side. Lethargic from the newly applied bacta patches, he quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, hoping Rey would be gone when he awakened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was based off two Shakespeare comedies lol why am I like this


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pain for pain," she murmured. "Seems a fair price."

Kylo was very disappointed to discover when he awoke that the cabin had grown uncomfortably stuffy, and, worse, Rey was still there, meditating quietly next to him.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" he groused.

Her data pad floated over her shoulder with delicate ease. She lazily opened her eyes to regard the time read out before waving the piece of tech away.  
  
"Nope, not yet," she said serenely, another deep breath tugging her eyes closed again. "Did you have a nice nap?"

He rubbed at his eyes as best as he could reach.  
  
"Couldn't have been better. The sun is shining, the breeze is pleasant, I have multiple fractures, and I'm a prisoner of a Jedi," he grumbled.

She snorted in a most un-meditative manner.

"You're not a prisoner," she replied, the calm in her voice was infuriating. "You just can't leave. There's a difference."

Oh, she was enjoying this.

"I have to say, your methods of torture are as creative as they are unrelenting," he muttered. "I didn't expect you were in the business of hostages, but I guess you can still surprise me."

She actually laughed at that.

"If this is your idea of torture, then either the First Order isn't as menacing as we assumed, or you're just not as tough as I thought you were," she chuckled.

She opened her eyes again, her look mischievous. She winked at him.

"I'm glad you can still be surprised.”

He rolled his eyes and propped his head up behind his bent left arm, giving him the illusion of both cavalier roguishness and considerably improved height.

"Between your sudden dip into Darkness and your constant desire to–what? Draw out the goodness in me?– spending time in this hut with you while my body heals itself has been worse than any torture my officers could devise."

She hissed in mock pain, her eyes still glimmering with mirth.

"Careful, Kylo, that one almost hurt," she drawled. "Besides I've given up trying to turn you. You're too kriffing hard-headed and you'll do whatever suits you."

"So you do know me after all," he said, his tone beginning to lighten, perhaps a product of his nap, perhaps a result of his guilt finally starting to wane at her familiarity.

She unfolded herself from her pose with fluid ease, limbs loose and relaxed after the extended meditation. She reached over and nudged his arm back down to his side.

"Arms down, you're going to put stress on your fractures," she said, her voice gentling.

"If you're so concerned about me stressing my fractures, what are you doing putting undue stress on my everything, then?"

“Was...that a joke?” She tried to stifle a laugh and failed.

“Good, I was starting to worry that the crash had broken your sense of humor, too,” she said, her eyes dancing.

"I don't have a sense of humor. I'm a Sith Lord, remember?" he said, his voice bright but severe. "Broody introspection is all I know."

“Of course,” she said, faking seriousness. “General Hux would disapprove of anything less than the deepest sulk. To emote otherwise is a court martial offense.”

It was his turn for a snort of amusement. "You're about right. You forget the exceptions for expressions of rage."

He shifted around on his nest. "Now, I need you to go. Or not. Just step outside."

“Wha-oh,” she realized, turning red. “Oh kriff, right, sorry.”

She scrambled to her feet, making for the door.

“There’s a bedpan in the corner. I figured you might…um, let me know if, uh, if you need help,” she stuttered.

"I should hope I can handle this part myself, assuming there wasn't any damage that you weren't able to assess," he said as she shut the door behind her.

After several moments of uncomfortable shifting and grumbles of pain, Kylo managed to relieve himself into the pan before moving it to the far corner of the hut. Arranging his body once more amidst his nest of blankets, he tapped lightly on the wall.

"I guess you can come back in, if you really want to," he said through the slats towards where Rey's silhouette stood. Part of him hoped desperately that she would just go away, but part of him, a sentimental, forgotten part, was glad for her companionship.

She tentatively stepped in, a hand over her eyes.

“Is it safe?” she quipped dramatically. “Will my innocent Jedi eyes be spared the profanity of the Dark Side?”

"No, it is too late. My shattered leg is too arousing," he said drolly, with a sigh of feigned exasperation. "I thought we could be _adults_ about this."

When she entered, he was still more or less how he had been lying earlier, but without the cover of the blanket, which he had deemed too stifling in the midday heat. While his left leg was still stretched out in its split, his right leg was now bent, making him look more relaxed, though Rey could still feel him trying to control his pain; it was like the Force was a buzzing swarm of gnats around him.

“Oh right because we’ve been _so_ mature up until now,” she scoffed, moving her hand to fix him with what she hoped was an annoyed glare. “That’s rich coming from the man who was all grumpy and cross until he had his nap.”

"I am still grumpy and cross, thank you," he said. "I'm just being kinder about it."

She thought back to the holo image of the masked phantom Kylo Ren she had seen at her briefing that morning, a faceless menace clad in black. The Kylo Ren lounging next to her, large expanses of pale skin exposed, was completely unrecognizable as the Supreme Leader the Resistance execrated so thoroughly. It was strange to think of the two as sharing a name; the one next to her seemed harmless. She knew better.

She sat primly next to him on the floor, doing her level best to avoid staring at the bruised, yet immense, length of his legs. Instead, she took him in with a critical eye, looking over the pale breadth of his torso, noting a number of scars that seemed fresher than others. And more poorly healed. Rey frowned.

“Looks like you’ve been getting sloppy since we last saw each other,” she mumbled, indicating a jagged line across his pectoral muscle.

His eyes narrowed as he repeated her words.

"Sloppy?"

She lightly touched the scar.

“Letting your sparring partners get more hits in,” she stated. “Getting distracted, perhaps?”

He let out another hiss, though this one was more irritated than pained, partially because of her unearned familiarity with his body, but mostly because, although he hadn’t wanted to admit it, she was completely correct. He had been training with the Knights in the past several months, but his head was not in it. His mind kept rushing to the night on Canto Bight when he was fighting not only for his own life, but for Rey’s. He thought about how any mistake could have sent the blaster fire onto her. Any momentary distraction could have resulted in her death.

The potentially devastating consequences of that night as his desire to suppress the thought of them had kept him from sparring properly. He was getting lazy.

Involuntarily, his dominant right hand reached across his chest and snatched hers, the black fabric scrap now resting against his mottled skin.

“You’ve seen me shirtless once before and now you think you know everything about me?” he growled. “And here I thought you were being strictly clinical.”

She opened her mouth to respond when her eye caught the strip of faded black silk around his wrist. She lifted their hands carefully to investigate it.

“Is that..." she murmured. Her hair ribbon from that night...

She looked back up at him, questions in her eyes.

"You kept it? All this time, you shut me out, but you kept it anyway? Why?" Her expression was tender and sad.

He stared deliberately at their hands for a moment, avoiding her gaze. Then he released her hand and pulled his away.

"Don't," was all he said as, with another pained grunt, he returned his hand to his side.

She shook her head angrily.

"No, you don't get to do this," she said. "I've always been honest with you. I just asked a question. You kept it after everything. Why." It wasn't a question anymore. She needed to know the answer.

He turned his head back to face the wall, to avoid her eyes. Though his skin was coated with a layer of sweat, he reached across his body with his left hand and pulled the discarded blanket back across himself, his only shield against Rey's intent stare.

The silence grew between them, punctuated occasionally by the crowing of avians from the world beyond the cabin.

After a while he whispered an answer.

"I can't."

Her gaze was still intent on him, eyes steely.

"Why not," she demanded.

"Don't I have enough wounds for you to pick right now?"

"I know you still have some spine left over after the crash. Use it. Tell me why."

"I don't owe you that," he snapped.

" _YES YOU DO_!" she shouted. She stopped, took a deep breath to center herself, and continued.

"You shut me out for six months and then I find out you kept my ribbon. You beg for death in my mind but call out for me in your dreams. I don't know what to think anymore. I need to know the truth."

She started to reach for his hand again, but withdrew after thinking better of it.

"Please," she whispered.

He did not face her, but with his left hand, he began to play idly with the ribbon on his limp right arm. Her plea cut through him, a jagged blade through his resolve.

"This has been the only thing holding me together," he murmured, curling and uncurling the scrap of cloth between his fingers.

His eyes found her briefly, then looked back at his wrist. "Excuse me if I'm not particularly excited to open up to you about my weaknesses right now."

Rey's heart stopped for a moment. Without a word, she unwrapped the leather cuff around her wrist. The scrap of Ben's black and red cloak had worn over the last few months. The fabric had faded and softened, much like Rey's memories of Canto Bight. She held her hand up to show him.

He saw Rey's solemn movements in the corner of his eye, and he slowly twisted his head over to look, watching as she revealed her wrist. The silence permeated the cabin again as he pieced together what she wore: a sign of devotion, twin to his. The hardness in the set of his face began to melt, and his eyes grew large and sorrowful.

"Haven’t I had enough pain today?" he asked quietly.

She refused to let her face betray her own hurt.

"Pain for pain," she murmured. "Seems a fair price."

He reached over slowly with his left hand and placed two large fingers on the scrap of fabric, right over the inside of her wrist where blood and muscle and bone intersected. He could feel her pulse under the pads of his fingers.

"I am too much of a coward to get rid of mine," he said softly. "What's your excuse?"

She watched his long fingers wrap around her wrist, the pressure gentle yet insistent.

“Too much hope that you’d come back to me, I guess,” she whispered.

His fingers began to move in small circles on the fabric.

"So what happened? Did you expect I'd fall out of the sky and land in your lap, or was that just luck?"

She shook her head wryly.

“Maybe the Force had something to do with it,” she said softly.

The intimacy of the moment dawning on him, he drew his hand away once more, returning it to rest on the blanket across his chest.

"Convenient." He looked away, guilt clawing at his broken insides.

“You want your Ben Solo back. I don’t think I can be that for you," he said, addressing the cabin more than Rey directly. "The body you dragged out of the wreckage wasn't him. I'm sorry."

Rey pulled her legs up to wrap her arms around them, curling in on herself to keep the pieces of her from flying apart. She fixed her eyes determinedly on the floor at her feet.

"What if I didn't care if you were Ben Solo or Kylo Ren?" she said, fighting the urge to cry and struggling to breathe. “When we were fighting our way out of that manor, I saw the best parts of Ben Solo and Kylo Ren come together to get us out. You kept me safe. So I don't care what name you call yourself. I just..."

She broke off, searching for the words.

"Part of me wishes that we'd never left Canto Bight."

"Why?" he asked, his tone serious and demanding once more. "Last time we were there, we were almost killed. There's nothing left in that awful city for us. Either of us. What do you honestly think you'll find there?"

She exhaled slowly, pressing her chin into her knees.

“I would hope that I’d find the man who said he loved me there,” she said quietly.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on him. “But he’s dead, apparently.”

"I said it before: it was a mistake, all of it," he growled. "Bringing you there, dressing you up, falling in love with you."

He took a deep breath. "Letting you go. All of it. Ben Solo. Lady Viré. Just add them to the pile of bodies in the ballroom. It's better to just forget it and move on, Rey."

She was quiet for a long time, watching his battered face.  
  
_Let the past die._ The ghost of the phrase haunted the silence between them.

“Is that really what you want?” she asked. “When you strip it all away, is it what you want?”

He laughed, a throaty, joyless chuckle.

"You know what I want in the deepest core of myself," he said, regarding her severely.

"It's funny," he continued after a beat. "I am powered by pain. I'm able to channel it through the Force. That is the strength of the Dark Side in me: My weakness is my strength. Right now, I could probably demolish this shitty little hut with a wave of my hand. But I won't."

His eyes wandered to the ceiling. "I won't undress my soul for you more than this: there is some pain that didn't make me stronger. And I can't get rid of it any more than I can use it."

"So instead you let it fester inside of you until there's nothing left?" she said, her voice hoarse and thick with emotion. "You told me to let go of my past, but you can't let go of your own misery. Your pain is doing nothing for you, so then let it go! Is being happy such an awful thing? Is the possibility of being happy with someone you love so wretched that you can't even stomach it?"

Rey surged forward onto her knees, pulling his face down to force his attention back to her.

"You're right," she murmured. "I do know what you want. You want to not be so desperately alone anymore."

She paused, searching his dark eyes.

"You talk a big game about power and order, but deep down you're still that lonely little boy with the voices in his head who just wants somebody to love him. And then when you finally had that, you threw it away for a lonely throne."

She withdrew her hand and curled back in on herself, hiding her stinging eyes in her knees.

"You're a damned fool."

"Stop it!" he snapped. "You saw into my head so now you think you can talk to me about who I was? Who I am?"

Again he shifted so he was resting on his left arm and able to raise his head a bit to meet her buried eyes. "You might get to pick and choose when you want to be with me, but I don't. I have to live with myself and what I did to get here every day. I have to destroy parts of myself, of my past just to live with what I've done. Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are just concepts that you can abstract from. I have to _be_ both of them, and no matter what I do, which I choose to live as, I can't just be happy as one because the other still exists."

His anger vented, he settled back down on the ground. He stared hard at her until she met his gaze again.

"I had to get rid of you to survive. Are you happy now?"

Her returning stare was just as hard as she bit back her tears. She could only look at him. He had lost weight since Canto Bight, the angle of his cheekbones and jawline now razor sharp. His eyes were dull and the hollows underneath were dark and tired. The lips she had kissed on the beach on Cantonica were pale and chapped. Her scar stood out in sharp relief on his face and she followed its line down his neck until it disappeared beneath the freshly applied bacta patch on his collarbone. If he had excised her from his mind to survive, then the result of the process had done nothing but ruin him.

He was a mess. But a galaxy without this mess of a man was not a place that Rey wanted to imagine. Not now that she finally got him back.

"This connection goes both ways," she said quietly. "Find your own answer, see what your survival cost."

She held out her hand, the black and red band taunting him from the slim span of her wrist.

His eyes followed her wrist and traced up her arm, until he met her dark, joyless eyes. She looked more like she had when he had first seen her on this planet: she was more like a scared scavenger than the empowered Resistance fighter who stood before him on Canto Bight in nothing more than a robe. Shifting his left arm out from under him, he reached out slowly, tentatively, and took her fingers in his, like they had many nights ago in a strange place in the Force.

_As soon as their skin touched, he was pulled into her mind. Flashes of color and shapes blasted into his consciousness and a cacophony of muddled sound filled his ears. He realized with a cursory sweep that he was standing, the near-constant pain of the last few days reduced to a dull concept at the back of his awareness. He almost collapsed in relief. Quickly the sounds separated from each other and evened out into a familiar melody. The colors and shapes solidified and he suddenly recognized where he was with a pang. The ballroom of Shwa’rarth’s manor house was still only just the vague outline of a place, but the feeling was unmistakable. As was the beauty in a cloud of grays and indigos floating toward the dancefloor...on the arm of a monster in black. Yet somehow, through the lens of Rey’s recollections, the towering shadow man didn’t seem nearly as horrifying as he had remembered feeling in the moment. The overwhelming feeling of affection and acceptance that radiated off of his companion rolled over him like a warm breeze._

You have a great deal of power over me, you know that?

_He heard his own voice echoing in his mind as if he had spoken aloud. Is that really what he sounded like to her? He remembered what her response had been, but from her perspective, everything had changed except the words. She looked up at the masked phantom with such adoration that his heart clenched in his chest._

I'm not here to overpower you, Ben. I'm here to be your balance, if you'll let me.

_Her voice was sweet in his mind, curling gently through his consciousness as it echoed._

I don’t know if I can be balanced. I am too far in the Dark.

You are not alone in this, Ben. I swear.

 _He watched her kiss the shadow’s hands and they swirled away into the misty ballroom, dissipating into a barrage of images and sounds and emotions, all of them tinted with something that was purely_ Rey _. The trust that surged through her as they readied for battle, secure in the knowledge that_ Kylo Ren would protect her. _A melted mask on the floor, the dread that bloomed in the pit of Rey’s stomach at his howl of pain, scared to death that she’d run up the stairs to find his corpse bleeding out onto the marble. Relief to see his unharmed face, the feral protective gleam in his dark eyes at the sight of her. Comfort and security wrapped around her fingers as they fled the manor in under a hail of broken glass and blaster fire,_ safe safe finally we’re _safe. The bursting lightness in her soul when he confessed his love for her, when he kissed her, when he held her. The fountain. The alley. The dance. The beach. The landing pad._

_The images flooding him where almost too much to take. He was moments from drowning when suddenly...nothingness._

_The empty feeling was so tangible that it took his breath away, punched a hole in his gut, brought him to his knees. He had known darkness before, let it saturate his very soul. This was...unnatural. An open, bleeding wound that wouldn’t close._

_Then he saw her. He cautiously approached her form, fear of what he might find curdling his stomach. She had collapsed onto the ground, curled in on herself as if to protect herself from any further pain. Her breath came in guttering sobs, rattling around in her ribcage. With what seemed like a herculean effort, she brought herself up to her hands and knees, shaking with the exertion. She sat up, gingerly folding her legs under her in a meditation pose. She exhaled deliberately, trying to settle her breathing into a more normal rhythm. The tears streaming down her face refused to stop, though. Her hand came up in front of her, reaching out._

Ben? _she murmured into the blackness._

_There was no answer. She took another breath. And her mantra began._

Ben…

Ben Solo, I know you’re there.

Ben.

...Kylo?

Kylo Ren, answer me.

Ben? Kylo?

Ben, please...

Please.

PLEASE!

_As each plea left her mouth, another Rey appeared behind her, stretching out in a seemingly endless line of Rey’s. Each voice layered on top of the others’ until the tidal wave of sound and anguish was too much._

Just as he felt that he was being taken under by the current, he was jerked out of the vision and back into the streaky light of the cabin. He yanked his hand out of hers, as if it were being burned. As he panted for air, his lungs burning from the effort against his pained sides, he rested his hand on his face. He hadn’t even noticed he had been crying. He tried to rise, to meet Rey’s gaze, but his pained body ached too much to keep him aloft. He slumped back down with a groan of anguish.

“No. Rey...that wasn’t...that wasn’t what I meant to happen at all,” he said, gasping. “I only wanted... I wanted to make it stop...stop hurting. I didn’t mean…for this...Any of it...” His desperate pleas died on his lips.

He knew it was no use. He had been certain in his choice to cut her off, to protect them both from the anguish of distance.

He hadn’t imagined things from the other side, and now there was nothing that could undo the damage he caused.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Rey,” he whispered, swallowing a sob. He reached out to take her hand again. How brittle it now seemed. His broad fingers brushed against hers, and she jerked her hand away, shaking her head. He looked up at her face, trying to show her his contrition, checking to see if she recognized how deeply his regret ran.

Rey's face glancing back at him was blank, her eyes drained of the fire and life that made him fall in love with her in the first place. She was empty, thanks to him. Without a word, she wiped away a lone tear that had slipped down her cheek. The leather cuff returned to its place around her wrist, hiding her little scrap of him, before she rose from the floor. A minute flick of her finger brought her pack to her hand and she silently shouldered it.

“ _I just wanted to protect you_ ,” he bellowed, the words bursting forth from his ravaged chest. “I wanted to stop your pain. Not cause it.”

She stopped at the door, her hand resting on the door jamb. She exhaled quietly, a resigned sigh.

"Get some rest," she mumbled. "I'll be back in the morning."

And without another look back, she walked out into the muggy Takodana woods, the door creaking shut behind her.

He lay still, barely breathing on the floor of the small abandoned hut, until he could no longer hear the engine of the speeder outside. He wanted to scream, to howl with rage, with hatred for what he had done, but he was afraid to make a noise. He didn't know where Rey had left him, or how easily he could be discovered. Rage boiling inside him, he lashed his right arm, letting the pain flow through him in the Force until he punctured a large hole in the base of the wall to his side.

He panted, trying to collect himself as blood welled up from several small cuts on his knuckles.

In succeeding, he had failed. Yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to level with you, readers: I didn't really like Kylo Ren in my first viewings of TFA, nor through like, most of my first viewing of TLJ. The first time he was on screen I actually muttered "Oh, it's this bitch again."
> 
> And then after some time, I realized: I cannot possibly hate him. He is me.
> 
> The proof:  
> 1) We are both That Bitch.  
> 2) We both definitely had a Darth Vader shrine in our bedrooms at one point.  
> 3) "I'm SuRe YoU aRe!"  
> 4) We both look like we had a My Chemical Romance phase and in both cases that is absolutely accurate.
> 
> Editor's note: I have known her for ten years and YES. I can vouch for ALL OF THIS.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you. For saving me."
> 
> She paused, the sincerity of his words landed a palpable hit against her resolution of neutrality. Rey turned her head briefly, acknowledging his thanks with a tiny nod.
> 
> "You would've done the same for me," she murmured, half to herself and half to him.

  
_Make me a willow cabin at your gate,  
__And call upon my soul within the house_

Twelfth Night I.V

* * *

 

The work was grueling, and for that, Rey was grateful.

Digging through the remains of the numerous felled TIE fighters across the planet's surface was a familiar task. Something she had done Force knows how many times since childhood: battling sandstorms and Teedo and her irritable old speeder to collect enough parts that would allow her to eat another day. Changing into Resistance-issued coveralls, she was given a map of the recovered ships and set to work at her own pace, her newer, albeit still geriatric, speeder leading her from crash site to crash site. Still, the ships’ varying states of destruction meant her mind and hands were constantly occupied, always assessing the usability and value of each recovered part. Her concentration was not disturbed by the morning’s altercation, though she could still feel lingering anxiety from what she had shared with him. It was like a moth flying around her head, but she never bothered to peel her eyes away from her work to examine it.

When she was with Finn and Rose at dinner, they kept her spirits up, even as exhaustion tried to claim her, but she turned in for bed early before Rose could try teaching them a new card game. She apologized, telling them that the heat and humidity wore her down, but she would be back, she would make it up to them another night. It wasn't exactly a lie, she thought with relief. But she knew that she couldn't keep brushing her friends to the side like she had been doing.

When she settled into bed, sleep claimed her almost instantly, but not before her foggy mind was tempted to tug the tenuous thread between her and the occupant of her small forest cabin, to reach out for him again, as she had so many nights before.

She resisted. Whether it was from lack of energy or strength of will, she didn't know, but she woke up grateful to have had an opportunity to heal the reopened wounds, however little she had succeeded.  


 

The day dragged on, and the Supreme Leader was restless.

He should sleep some more, he knew, but his mind, a cruel, clever thing, was not content to let him merely rest. His injuries wouldn't let him be, either, and though the bacta had realigned the fragments of bone to ease the healing process, a process it would be.

He knew pain this acute; he had felt it once before, partially at her hands. He thought death was close when he felt the earth move beneath him on Starkiller base. His side was raw where the bowcaster bolt had hit him. Though he tried to contain it, he felt the pain like a fire on his muscle. The blood had colored the snow as he stalked out to find the girl.  
  
Then he had fought them, the Stormtrooper and the scavenger. A slip left him with a small wound on his shoulder from the traitor, but Rey...she had struck him down again and again. He fought through the pain, tried to use it.  
  
_Focus. FOCUS!_ he had commanded himself.

But he found himself on the defensive. The pain was beyond his control. He was stumbling over slick roots and the ground felt like it was going to vanish and the Force...it was bending for her alone.

He remembered the final strike, the one that split him apart. He felt his fingers rising to his cheek at the mere thought of it. The heat, the blade searing his flesh from shoulder to brow. He felt the earth move again as he lay, too much in agony to rise again. He knew he had been beaten; he had failed. He saw the blue light vanish from the corners of his vision, and he was alone on the pulsing ground, snow falling around him.

He was rescued soon after, the ground continuing to melt into the dying planet’s core. He was barely conscious, holding onto the Force to keep himself awake. He was submerged in a bacta tank as he was sent off to the Supremacy. Surgical droids knit together what the bacta could not; the wounds were too deep to not leave scars. He was lucky to still have both of his eyes, of course, but he couldn’t forget the sensation of the blade cleaving into his flesh.

Those wounds healed quickly, thanks to the First Order’s medical facilities. Those injuries had been more personal than these, but these felt more intimate, more painful. He could feel her in the gaps where the bones were still knitting together.

He could feel the anguish, the agony of what his choice had done to her.

He would close his eyes, attempt to sleep, but his body would ache and throb with the strain of healing. Prevented from rest, his mind would reopen old wounds, bleeding out the memories he had sealed away.  
  
And so began the exhaustive cycle. He would try to sleep; his body would keep him awake with pain, grim reminders of his tenuous survival; he would stir from his rest, and he would remember. And he let the memories gnaw at him until he was too exhausted from the burdensome remembrances and the stifling heat of the cabin to think anymore.  
  
Her emptiness. He had felt it so viscerally; it was as if his ribcage had been hollowed out, leaving him with nothing. No anger, no sorrow, no fear. No strength. Just a gaping hole, rimmed with empty promises that now were lies.  
  
Occasionally he would let himself consume the rations Rey left behind for him. Sometimes the effort of eating was too much, and he would just drink the metallic-tasting water in the canteen, grateful for the relief from the heat and discomfort.  
  
He had known it would hurt her, he admitted finally. He had realized how she felt about him on Canto Bight. He had felt her adoration of him, a balm on his scalded soul, and it had given him solace, if only for that night. But the moment she disappeared out of Cantonica’s atmosphere, he realized what had to be done.

And so he remembered.

His left hand would wander to his right wrist, to the small, worn ribbon his fingers had toyed with numerous times over the past...what was it she said? One hundred-ninety one days? Ninety-six? He had told her the partial truth: the ribbon had helped keep him together when he thought he would splinter. But it wasn’t the scrap of cloth. There was nothing special about it. It was the memory of her that kept him sane; the ribbon was his permission to think of her. To think he might have been loved once.

The day dragged on into night. He was going mad with the fury of what his mind created. He tried to stop the onslaught of memories, to sleep, but every time he drifted into a dream, he saw Rey again, saber in hand, igniting the jagged red blade into her chest.

He knew what it meant, why the dream kept coming: he couldn’t stand to see her hurt, to imagine a galaxy without her, but he knew it wasn’t her alone stabbing herself through the heart. He had caused her this pain, raw and stinging as the saber she had slashed him with, thudding and constant as the ache in his leg.

He had done this.

The night dragged on. He stopped trying to sleep. He let the memories come, let himself feel the guilt, the anger, the fear. The Force erupted around him, and the cabin was full of frantic motion as its contents flew about. He pieced together the words he couldn’t say, fragments of conversations and time alone he’d rather have forgotten

But still he remembered. And he kept remembering. Over and over he remembered the truth, and the pain in his mind began to ease.

Morning came; the darkness outside the cabin ebbed.

And he readied himself.

 

Rey was not the only one awake before the sun, but while some of the Resistance crew seemed surprised to see her raiding the mess hall before the sun rose, many paid her no mind as she slipped out to the hangar bay to get her speeder. Her gut felt heavy, and her tired body begged her to remain at the base until her morning meeting, but she was nothing if not a creature of habit; she had to get to the cabin.

The woods blurred by her as the distance between them peeled away; the little hut growing as she approached. Her insides were at war: one part of her ached to get to him as fast as she could, the other screamed in pain at the shrinking proximity to her charge. In spite of both sides, she walked calmly to the door and stopped before she entered. Taking a deep breath, she gently reached into the Force for his signature.

He was awake. She withdrew the seeking tendril as quickly as she'd sent it out, not wanting to dig any deeper into him after their connection yesterday. The encounter had left her drained, exhausted, and reluctant to engage with him any further.

 _This is purely a check-in_ , she scolded herself. _Nothing more._

She schooled her face into one of cool detachment and pushed the rickety wooden door open a crack.

He waited until she was fully inside before he spoke.

"You came back," he said softly, lighting the candledroid as he spoke so it poured its dim amber light into the room.

She shut the door behind her and set her pack down, kneeling beside him as she rummaged through it for fresh bacta.

"I said I would, so here I am," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

He was still flat on his back, but he appeared again to be reclining, with his good leg tucked in toward his torso and his right arm resting across his bare chest. However, unlike before, he seemed to be guarding himself; his blanket was pulled up to his stomach in the chilly dampness of the morning, his left hand balling the fabric up nervously.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he faltered.

After a brief pause, he tried again.

"Thank you. For saving me."

She paused, the sincerity of his words landed a palpable hit against her resolution of neutrality. Rey turned her head briefly, acknowledging his thanks with a tiny nod.

"You would've done the same for me," she murmured, half to herself and half to him.

She couldn't meet his eyes yet. It would unravel her resolve.

He let out a shaky half laugh as he watched her.

"I'm glad you think so," he said earnestly.

She cleared her throat and returned to her work, pulling the kit up beside her.

Now came the hard part. Rey shifted to face her patient, scooting closer in order to reach him. Still she refused to meet his eyes, despite the intensity of his gaze on her face. She carefully peeled the patches off of his injuries, eyeing the bruising critically. She laid her hands against his ribcage as gently as she could, fighting the heat rising in her face.

"Take a deep breath for me," she said softly, focusing on the expansion of muscle and bone rather than the feeling of his eyes on her.

He breathed slowly, feeling the slight ache in his sides under the gentle pressure of her hands, the slight roughness of her calloused fingers on his skin.

She looked at him anatomically, not as a person. He knew what he had done, and a sickness churned in his stomach. He had earned her coldness with his own.

He was either too proud now or too scared to apologize, but he couldn't form the words to express regret. He could only watch her hate him.

She exhaled, relieved. This plan was finally starting to pay off. It helped to lighten her spirits.

"Good. Alright, ribs seem to be healing up nicely," she said, encouraged by his progress.

Her fingers found the shrinking bump in his clavicle, pressing and probing gently. Despite her reluctance to interact with him, the feeling of his skin, warm and alive and _here_ , seeped into the cracks in her defenses. 

"Any pain here?" she asked.

His heart threatened to burst out of his chest as her hands traveled across his wounds. He hissed at the pressure on his shoulder.

"Yes, don't think that one is ready yet," he said through gritted teeth.

Instantly her hands dropped from his injury.

"Sorry," she stammered. Detachment or not, the last thing Rey wanted to do was cause him more pain.

She drew away back to her pack, pulling out a bundle of fabric bandages. _Hold it together, girl_ , she thought to herself.

"I'm going to check your leg and then we'll see if you can sit up so I can bind your shoulder," she said, trying to sound as clinical as possible. "Is that amenable to you?"

He swallowed hard, and then a faint shadow of a smile came to land on his lips.

"I'd like that. I'm going crazy flat on my back," he said. He didn't know how to ask Rey for the things he wanted or needed; she provided enough food and water for him, certainly, but his desire to keep his own pain hidden had prevented him from seeking what he wanted: movement, more light, water to bathe. Maybe clothing, if the heat and humidity every relented.

Rey was right; he was being foolish. But she had broken his defenses. He knew there was only one way to proceed with what he had seen.

"You're the doctor," he added quietly.

She snorted. "Your faith is appreciated," she said wryly, a small smile of her own gracing her face. She had forgotten how charming he could be.

Rey tugged down the blanket to get a look at his leg, carefully removing the bacta patch and loosening the splint for a better view.

"Well, the good news is that the swelling seems to have gone down considerably," she said, her tone almost congenial. "The bad news is that with a bone this dense, the healing time is significant, even with bacta. You probably won't be walking, aided or unaided, for a while yet."

She frowned. "Looks like you're stuck here for the time being."

He slammed his head back on his pillow in frustration. When he found himself alive and in the care of someone to whom he could barely speak without self hatred threatening to destroy him, he had hoped his injuries were only temporary setbacks. Now he feared his captivity would be interminable.

“What is your plan here, anyway?” he asked, trying to manage his anger. “The minute I can stand again, you're going to what? Chain me up so I can’t escape? Sneak me off world? Move me into a bigger hut so I can begin life anew as a farmer? You’re not going to bring me to trial, or you would have already turned me in.”

The lightness in Rey's face dropped.

 _Of course_ , she thought, _one setback would throw him into a fit_.

"Frankly, I don't give a damn what you do once you can stand," she said tersely. "Go back to the Order, join up with us, 'begin life anew,' start a band, I don't give a shit."

She applied a new bacta patch to his leg and tightened the splint back up, and none too gently, she realized guiltily.

"But you're right, I'm not planning to bring you in," she continued. "I'm sticking my neck out for you by hiding you, taking supplies, disappearing for hours at a time to argue with you. If the Resistance found out who I was harboring, they'd likely set us up for a joint execution."

She tugged the blanket back into place firmly, and began to turn away from him. _I am wasting my time..._

"I know," he said sighing, rubbing the heel of his good hand against his eyes. "And I'm grateful for that. But..."

He abruptly removed his hand from his face.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you. I don't know what your plan is, and right now, I can't say I really care," he said, his tone aggravated, but no longer directed at her. "I messed up earlier and I'm sorry for that. I'm really grateful you let me live, okay? I just don't know what that means yet.”  
  
He paused, remembering. “I saw the ground rushing towards me and I thought that would be it. But...I’m still here. I’m stuck here until I’m better, but I’m _here._ This isn’t a blank slate by any means, but I’m not dead, and I’m not where I was before. I can’t figure out where I’m going. But I...wish I knew. Wish I didn’t feel so helpless."

Her face softened and she hazarded a glance at his face. He was struggling. His eyes were red and the dark circles around them gave him a gaunt, nearly demonic appearance. He must have bitten his lips raw overnight, because it was obvious that he hadn't slept at all the night before. The sight of him chipped away at the chinks in her armor. She scooted closer, rising onto her knees for leverage.

"Right," she said quietly, "let's sit you up so I can treat that shoulder."

"Thank you," he whispered, basking in relief that he didn't entirely mess things up for this one brief moment. "And if I say anything profane, it's the injury speaking." He lifted his left shoulder off the ground, inviting her to slide her hands on his back.

She chuckled.

"First my innocent Jedi eyes, now my innocent Jedi ears," she tutted as she pressed her hands against the broad span of his back. "You are just determined to corrupt me, aren't you?"

With a massive heave, she pushed his torso up to sitting, wincing as she heard vertebrae pop.

He exhaled sharply in a mix of pain and relief as his back was shifted for the first time in days, stretching some muscles that had become sore from disuse. With Rey's hands supporting him, he carefully caught his breath.

"I've met your one pilot friend, and he taught me some of the foulest language I know, thank you," he said hoarsely.

He let out a breathy chuckle. "Besides, you're the one who undressed me and has been putting your hands all over me for several days," he chided. "I feel like you're the one violating me."

Rey's eyes rolled so hard that she wondered if he could hear them from her position behind him.

"How do the ribs feel now?" she asked, intent to get back to the task at hand.

He drew several deep breaths. "The initial pain has eased a bit, and now that I'm up it's just slightly sore," he said.

"Alright," she said, a smile in her voice. "I'm going to let go now, don't go collapsing on me. I don't think I'd survive the impact."

"Oh, now I'm landing on you on purpose," he declared, rocking his hips backwards and letting himself slowly lean back until he was resting on the surprisingly sturdy wall of the cabin. He let out a sigh of relief. It was the first time he had sat up in days, and he could feel the blood rushing frantically throughout his head. He was a bit dizzy, but though his vision swirled a bit, he was eager to observe his surroundings more clearly. He fixed his eyes on Rey.

"Much better," he said, tracing his eyes along her face. Her gaze seemed to avoid him. He felt the guilt lurch through him again.

Noting the amount of dirt that had migrated onto his body in the last few days, Rey removed one of the long strips of fabric from around her torso and dumped some of the water from her canteen onto the rag.

"Here," she said with a gruff but gentle tone, "sit up. You're filthy. Can't have you reeking under your sling."

With a soft touch, she grasped his chin in her hand and wiped the dirt, sweat, and salt off his face, her eyes finally settling on his.

He was taken by surprise by the sudden gesture, and he could almost feel a foreign blush coming to rest on his wan cheeks. Rey was looking him in the eye, finally, and he suddenly felt as if he had to tear his gaze away. He was a helpless child, and she was bathing him. However, he knew this was the moment to swallow his pride. He briefly closed his eyes as Rey patted carefully around them, and then opened them, studying her.

She clucked her tongue softly as she worked.

“We’ll have to do something about your hair too, but I don’t have the supplies with me,” she said quietly, looking at the knotted, greasy tangles that were once luscious black waves.

She turned his head to get a look at his cheek, her fingers snagging against his rough chin.

“And maybe a razor, as well,” she added, her own cheeks flushing with color.

She wet the fabric again and began to work her way down his neck, doing her best to avoid putting pressure on his collarbone.

He exhaled a breathy laugh.

"Well, I am a human man. If you leave me alone for a few more days, I’ll start to resemble a Wookiee," he said, hoping his joke would prevent him from thinking about her hands on him. He lifted his chin to allow her better access to his neck and shoulders and swallowed, his throat bobbing. Her eyes were too focused on her work to notice him watching her carefully. He wanted to enjoy her touch again, but he was wary. He knew what she was capable of.

She made quick work of his chest and blushed even harder before scooting back, indicating him to hold out his arm as best he could.

“I have seen beards before,” she said, trying to make small talk. “Although Jakku was too hot for anyone to keep one besides visitors. I imagine with all the sand, a beard can get a mite itchy.”

He quirked an eyebrow as she ran her hand along his bicep and down to his forearm.

 _R’iia spare me, I’m babbling about facial hair to the Supreme Leader of the First Order_ , she thought to herself with a groan.

She wiped down his arm, turning it over carefully as she descended, eventually arriving at the band around his wrist. She paused, smiling minutely, before returning to her work. Her eyes lighted briefly on the angry scabs on his knuckles. She didn’t want to ask.

"I didn't doubt that. It's just against First Order protocol for humanoid men to have beards. Occasionally mustaches are permitted, but this is the most I've been able to grow in a while.”

He reached out his hand gently to stop her.

"I think I can handle washing this part," he said, trying to mask his shyness with an air of bravado. “I know how much pressure I can take before it hurts.”

His stomach felt as if it were coiled rope. This was the most his skin had been touched by human hands in years. He hadn't known how badly he had hungered for it until now.

She relinquished the fabric to him and sat quietly. The image of him with one of the funny mustaches she’d seen on the Holonet came unexpectedly to her mind and she snorted. The image took root and she giggled helplessly at the thought.

The thought occurred to her that this was not the detachment she had sought to maintain. Right now, seeing the effort he was making, making amends in his own way, she couldn’t let that go to waste. So she laughed. Laughed at the whole insane situation. Laughed at his imaginary mustache. Laughed because she had no tears left to shed today.

He carefully ran the coarse fabric along his sides, now blotted with yellow where the bacta patches had pieced together the bones and reduced the bruising.

"I didn't realize my ability to wash myself was that amusing," he said, brushing his hand in relaxed, gentle circles across his ribcage.

She waved her hand as the giggles petered out.

“Not at that,” she snickered. “Funny thought, never mind.”

She exhaled finally, her eyes dancing with mirth.

“Just, maybe don’t try growing a mustache,” she said, suddenly awkward as she watched his hand move over his stomach.

He rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his lips.

"Hadn't been planning on it, but now I might have to," he said.

“I can get your other arm,” she mumbled. “Don’t overdo it.”

He froze. "Before we do that, can you..." he stammered, his hand gesturing vaguely at the opposite wall. "Can you look away? I want to take care of ...other areas. Something about your innocent Jedi eyes might not want to see this.”  
  
He considered her for a moment. “Or maybe they do. Your choice.”

Her face burned and she turned her back to him, arms crossed. When he was sure she wasn't looking, his left hand burrowed under the blanket to begin cleaning his more delicate parts.

"...would you like to explain why there's suddenly a hole in the wall?" she asked after a moment.

"No."

She exhaled loudly.

"Well alright then," she said. "I'll have to fix that, unless you enjoy the cross breeze and the potential for animals to come in and eat your tasty, defenseless body."

"The cross breeze _is_ nice," he said brightly. "And I'm not completely defenseless. I don't know what kind of creatures we are dealing with out here but I still have at least one good arm."

He paused. "But conveniently no lightsaber."

Rey stiffened, then quirked her head back.

"And what would you do with a lightsaber with one good arm, one good leg and barely enough ribs to hold your insides together?"

"Make bigger holes in your cabin," he said. Finishing his personal cleansing, he pulled his underwear back into place and shifted the blanket over him. "I can feel the bruise on my hip. I had it when I crashed."

He reached out to her, offering the wrap with a slight nudge against her shoulder. "Your turn."

She turned back to him before taking the rag between two fingers, considering it, and tossing it toward her pack. She unwound the other strip from around herself and dumped the last of her personal canteen onto the fabric to finish with his other arm.

"Can you move forward a bit?" she requested, carefully avoiding his eyes. "Got to get your back..."

He curled his right knee up to his chest again, and, crossing his right arm over his chest, leaned forward carefully.

When he felt the gentle brush of fabric against his back, he flinched.

Rey almost jumped herself, snatching the rag back from his skin.  
  
"Sorry," she stuttered. "Did that hurt?"

He paused, considering his own actions.  
  
"Reflex," he mumbled. "Sorry."

Her heart clenched and her inhale caught in her throat. They had stolen even the most innocent touch from him. Not for the first time, she relished the memory of hard blue light slicing easily through wizened flesh and gold cloth. She slowly exhaled the emotion and tried to clear her mind. Sympathy would do neither of them any good, especially where revenge had failed.

"I'm going to start at your neck," she said quietly, trying to telegraph her movements. "Is that okay?"

He tried to straighten himself, shifting his weight and wincing at the pain in his sides. He felt shame clutch at him again. He had blanched at contact he couldn’t see. Another weakness, another raw nerve exposed. Why couldn't he keep it together?

Carefully, he swept his damp, tangled hair away from his neck with his free hand.

She made sure to keep her ministrations gentle and slow as she wiped some of the grime of the previous days away. She watched goosebumps rise on his skin as rivulets of water dripped down his back, snagging in the divots and contours of muscle and bone. There was a large blotchy bruise on the right side of his lower back in the shape of a distinctive lightsaber. It was a miracle that it hadn't activated on impact and sliced him clean in two. She moved across his shoulders in methodical circles.  
  
"You don't have to apologize, you know," she murmured. "For reflexes. I understand. I still get jittery when people I don't know get too close."

He felt his heart race, a mixture of anxiety and perhaps excitement at her proximity to him. But he could not see her hands, and every time she lifted the rag and placed it down again, his body jolted involuntarily. Too many blows from unseen fists.  
  
He felt bruises he hadn't known before blossom into soreness as she brushed over his skin. He was afraid to talk, lest she hear how choked his voice was from suppressing the pain, the fear.  
  
He had almost forgotten to breathe. He exhaled slowly.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," she went on, trying to maintain an even tone. "It's just..." She stopped, the cloth resting for a moment on his spine. She could feel his heart hammering against his ribs hard enough to knock them out of alignment again.

_It means that you've survived long enough to remember how much it can really hurt._

"It's just an automatic response," she finished lamely, returning to her work. "You're protecting yourself."

"I’m not protecting anything.” The words slipped out, volatile and false, before he could even think about what he was saying. His fingers snagged in the ends of his hair and he tugged in frustration. _Stop. You don’t need to do this. You don’t have to lie. Not to her._

"Hey, hey," she chided quickly, her hand shooting up to cover his twitching fingers. "None of that."

She ran her thumb over his knuckles, unmarred by fresh scratches but thick with old scars. She hoped the touch was soothing.

"You don't need a reason," she said softly, trying for calm. "Even though I've given you reason enough to want to protect yourself from me."

He felt his concoction of panic and shame evaporate at her touch.

_You need to show her._

“Why would I need to protect myself from you?” he asked softly. “You’re the reason I’m alive. I’m at your mercy.”

She paused, guilt again rising in her gut over her loss of control. “I hurt you. I lost myself and I hurt you because of it.”

She squeezed his fingers lightly. They were warm under hers.

“That should be reason enough,” she said quietly.

"Every time I see you, you find the exact way to hurt me the most," he whispered. “And every time I let you.”

It was true, he realized after he had said it. And his own honesty shocked him; he had admitted how powerful he viewed her once before, but he was now so scared of her seeing him for the vulnerable weakling he was.

_Show her._

She winced. “I never mean to hurt you,” she murmured, more to herself than him.

"Even if you mean to hurt me, it's alright," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I've done more than enough to deserve it."

Rey’s heart cracked. She hated that he believed that he deserved to be hurt in penance for his crimes. She hated that part of her agreed with him.

Despite his fears, she didn't think of him as a pathetic, broken boy; he knew that in the core of himself. The way she spoke to him told him that she did not see him as a helpless child. He had hurt her, too. He had seen what he had done; she was likely just as afraid of him as he was of her. And now they were united by the guilt they felt towards each other.

One of her hands gently massaged the damp cloth on his lower back, her other rested gently on his. An apology? An invitation? He couldn't tell anymore.

He released his hair and took her hand in his. It felt natural, as if he had restored a missing piece.

Her breath hitched for a split second. The memory of a cold, rain-soaked night on a stony island jumped unbidden to her mind. His hand had been warm then, too, and tentative, as if he was secretly made of the burning sands that had forged her. She had missed this. She felt herself leaning into him, a magnet hiding between his shoulder blades drawing her closer to the warm expanse of his back. This was comfort that she hadn’t realized she’d needed. It was comfort that she didn’t deserve. It kept her from resting her cheek against his skin and just staying there forever. His heart hammered in his chest; she could feel it beneath her, but there was a calm in the Force surrounding them. It was a strange peace.

She dragged herself away from him after a few moments, reluctant to be away from his warmth. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she withdrew her hand and shifted back around him to reach for the swath of fabric bandages she’d stashed away.

“I need to bind your shoulder now, okay?” she said, her eyes fixed on the bump in his collarbone.

"Sure," he said, and in a very slow series of movements, he was able to lift his broken leg enough to turn his body several degrees towards her, giving her clearer access to his shoulder. The darkness around them seemed to shift; the sun was beginning to rise.

She gently pressed his shoulders back with her fingers until they were as straight as she could get them. She took his right arm and pushed his hand toward his left shoulder.

“Hold there,” she said quietly.

Unraveling a length of the bandage, she flushed when she realized what she had to do next. She steeled her nerves and wrapped her arms around him, briefly bringing her face in contact with his skin before darting away again, the bandage tucking around his chest. She worked quickly after that, the innocent yet somehow intimate moments of close proximity becoming easier and easier to handle. In a few minutes, she finished, sitting back on her heels to eye the wrap critically. His right arm was immobilized, secured firmly to his chest with the bandage while another loop crisscrossed his upper back to keep his shoulders straight.

“All done,” she said. “How does that feel?”

 _Incredible_ , he thought guiltily. He was warming to her her gentle ministrations. Her careful but sure hands piecing him together was soothing his frazzled spirit.

He gave her a wan smile. "Uncomfortable, but I guess that means it's working."

She nodded, satisfied.

“It’ll take some getting used to, but it’s going to help.”

She sat there for a while, the silence hanging between them like a shroud. What could she say, now that he had seen her mind, seen her scope of reference for the last six months, felt her pain. She had made her point, that much was obvious. Why did it feel like a defeat?

“I should go,” she said, a bit too loudly. “Let you get some rest. Make sure your right shoulder is supported when you lay down again, so you don’t roll over onto it.”

She started to get up.

"Rey, wait," he said abruptly, reaching out for her with his free arm. "Before you go, it's my turn to show you something."

She stopped, his hand on her wrist branding her through her arm wraps.

“Show me what?”

He bit on his lips and exhaled deeply before speaking, his eyes downcast.

"It's not good enough to be an explanation, and it's too selfish to be an apology, but you wanted to know why I cut you off," he muttered, his grip relaxing on her arm.

This kind of honesty was always uncomfortable for him. He wished he had use of both his arms so he could draw the blanket up again, shielding himself from her gaze like a child playing a game, but in trying to keep her in the cabin, he was left exposed again to her withering stare. He needed to be exposed. He needed to show her.

"I don't know if I can find the right words, but I was up all night trying to piece together my thoughts, because I just...I made my choice, took action, and didn't think on it again, except to convince myself what I had done was right. So I mulled it over, and..." He shrugged his exposed shoulder. "I hope you don't think that in dwelling on it I painted myself in a better light. I didn't."

He swallowed fearfully, his dark eyes large and pleading. "You saved my life because you wanted to know why I would say I loved you and then leave you alone to suffer. This is the best answer I can give."

He let go of her, and offered his open hand to her.  "You shared your pain with me. Pain for pain, isn't that what you said?"

Rey’s breath caught in her throat. She looked down at the large, smooth hand outstretched to her, a supplicant for her understanding. If she took his hand, she would finally know the answer to the question that had plagued her silent, wakeful nights.

Her eyes followed the path of his veins, blue-black in the light of the rising sun, up the inside of his arm, disappearing into the crook of his elbow before reappearing on his bicep. Then from there up his shoulder, over the straight line of his unbroken clavicle, and then to his eyes. His dark, pleading eyes. The look of desperate anguish swimming in their depths was enough to make Rey return to her seat on the floor next to his pallet.

She took a deep breath. Then she took his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally, I was going to call this fic "Call Upon My Soul," taken from the Twelfth Night quote used in the epigraph, from Viola's monologue:
> 
> "Make me a willow cabin at your gate,  
> And call upon my soul within the house;  
> Write loyal cantons of contemned love  
> And sing them loud even in the dead of night;  
> Halloo your name to the reverberate hills  
> And make the babbling gossip of the air  
> Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest  
> Between the elements of air and earth,  
> But you should pity me!"
> 
> Okay, cool right?
> 
> And then I tried abbreviating it.
> 
> Anyway so now you're reading Sighs of Fire.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t have to be so lonely in there, he taunted himself.

_Though the morning sunlight seemed unusually bright, Rey could not mistake the place where she found her mind transported: it was the public landing pad on Canto Bight where Ben had sent her away with Bazine. It was the last time she had known him as her beloved, her Ben. Hers._

_Of course, the two were easy to find. Through the blurs of ships and creatures, the two stood on the perimeter, deep shadows contrasting against the many colors and textures surrounding them. They seemed to carve out their own space in the middle of the bustling port; it was a world all for them._

_The memory was warm; she felt joy, a familiar sensation, suddenly made alien. Ben had not known anything like it before, or at least any that he could remember; it was strange and beautiful and made him whole, if only for that moment they were together._

_She felt their promises as she heard them; the desire to return, the vows that they belonged to each other. They hurt even more in his memory; she could feel his wanting, his loving. He worshipped her in that moment, and every muscle in his body fought him as he brought her over to the gangplank to present her to Bazine._

_She couldn’t hear the words exchanged with the bounty hunter over a flurry of overlapping voices. She could only catch snippets of these, and she recognized the frantic thoughts instantly._

She can’t come with me

The Resistance wouldn’t

See Mom, she would never

Don’t let her go you can run

Run away

Don’t let her leave

Just run

Where will she go she can’t

The First Order wouldn’t

Kill me

Find her they’d torture her

Kill me

The last Jedi

They know they would hurt her

I love her

Kill her

I can’t

I can’t

_His voice, low and mournful, broke through the furious cacophony._

_“Never forget,” he said. “I am yours, Rey. I will be yours wherever you go. If you feel alone, just look to the stars. You’ll find me.”_

_They kissed again, and everything felt anchored once more, but the alien joy was gone, quickly melting into sorrow._

_His thoughts were so frenetic now she couldn’t even pick them out, but when she turned down from the gangplank swimming in his cape, they went silent._

I’m yours, Ben. _She felt her own thoughts curling lovingly around his mind._ And I always will be.

_He watched the ship that carried Rey away from him until it was too far off to see, at which point he tore his eyes away. The light seemed to shift as he stormed back into the city, his sights set once again on the manor in the hills; the radiant glow that had filled the port earlier seemed nothing but shadows. The world, so colorful before, seemed to dim considerably._

_She could feel the anguish swarming in to fill the places where the joy was. The Force around him, once steady and flowing like a stream, was prickly, staticy, as if it would lash out and shock someone at any given time._  
  
_She found him returning to the manor, gloomy and dark and swarming with Stormtroopers. He walked past them, seeking something out. His mind raced. He was trying desperately to find something he had lost._  
  
_He toyed with the ribbon on his wrist as he paced the opulent guest room that had been hers for such a brief time. He looked at everything, searching for something. The things that were hers seemed to radiate a sort of light; she had forgotten her chest wraps and Bazine’s black robe, but they seemed to shine somehow, despite their dingey appearance. He gazed at the gowns that hadn’t been selected, and they, too, seemed to have a faint shimmer to him._  
  
_He was looking for her, even here. He knew it was foolish, but she could feel the all-consuming desire, the regret coursing through him._

 _He wanted her back, but couldn’t have her, and it was eating him alive._  
  
_He would never be good enough for her. He would always be something she hated, too weak for the power that she carried._

_He slammed his fist into the dresser, letting it crack beneath his hand as he choked back a scream, a cry, a feral yell of despair that was clawing its way out of his throat._

 

_He stood the hallway below where they had first met; her dripping and underdressed, him a shadow, a wraith praying to the Force that seeing her again would cure his fixation with the skinny scavenger girl. Praying that seeing him again might convince her to change her mind, abandon her friends, and join him._

_The hallway was now littered with bodies, richly dressed in death and bejeweled in blood._

_Rows of bodies. One could have been hers, had he not been careful. She had survived, her dress worse for the wear, and fled in his cloak. Safe. Safer now that she was far away from him._

_They had lived, and yet he had still chosen to let her go._

_Kita’lis had lived. She had conspired for his death. That alone was worthy of hers, but the First Order demanded answers._

_She opened her mouth, spouting words that cut to the core of Kylo Ren._

_“I guess she really couldn’t stand you, much less love you, pretty monster or not.”_

_Her smile was so innocent, so cheery, as she began to speak the name of the dead._

_Lady Viré had perished in the ambush._

_Kita’lis planned to resurrect her in front of the broken Supreme Leader and his devilish assistants._

_His vision went black with rage and fear._

_Kita’lis lay dead in the hallway, taking his and Rey’s secret with her to whatever hell she believed in._

_The First Order could never know._

_Everyone had to pay._

_His vision only returned when he saw the light from the fire burning down the house that had once held so much promise._  
_  
The fire, at least, glowed._

 

_The First Order was relieved at the survival of its leader, though not ultimately surprised._

_He canceled all meetings and other expected events for the evening. There was little fuss from his officers._

_The door shut behind him as he strode into the long, barren chamber that was his throne room. It was impossibly bleak. It was empty. He had dismissed all guards for the day._

_His throne was modeled off the Emperor’s more than Snoke’s. It was a simple yet severe high-backed chair._

_When he sat he wept, and though he tried to remain silent, every pant, every small sob was piercing in the quiet of the hall._

_He tried to fight; he drew his lightsaber and began to feel in the Force for items in the room he could destroy. He felt for some power in this anguish, but there was none to be found. He was perhaps even weaker than he had been the night before, fighting armed insurgents while trying not to allow his mind to break from Rey._

_Heartsickness, he quickly discovered, was devastating to his ability to draw from the Darkside. He took his fist and rammed it into the knot of scars on his side over and over until he felt at last half as strong as he had been that night._

_His sobs turned to wails to yells of fury in his empty throne room._

It didn’t have to be so lonely in there, _he taunted himself._

You’re not worthy of the title.

You’re not worthy to be heir of Lord Vader.

You’re not worthy of the girl.

 

_When he had screamed himself hoarse and the tears ceased, he vanished into his chambers. Something about the familiarity of the sparse space was soothing. It was his, untouched by her._

_He couldn’t get her back, but he had to keep his word._

_He stared at the screen for a long time before he could bring himself to act._

_His shattered heart sank further as he pulled up the Resistance tracking records. He logged in under a false account, and began to purge the data._  
  
_He had used the little pieces of intelligence gathered to help Bazine track down Rey. Now he was erasing her, making her harder to find._  
_  
It was everything he wanted. It was the last thing he wanted._

 _He was erasing her so easily._ _  
_

This is how you protect her, _he reminded himself._ She will be safe from you.  
  
You can’t drag her into the Darkness with you.  
  
She’ll be free. Safe.

You can destroy yourself, but she will live on.

 _The deed finished, he turned the screen off and pushed the datapad away._ _  
__  
__Tears fell in silent rivulets down his face from eyes he thought had been drained. He was unraveling._ _  
__  
__For the first time in ages, he felt a thick, echoing silence in the Force._ _  
__  
__The bond was connecting his and Rey’s minds. He slammed his eyes shut._ _  
_  
Not now, _he prayed to the uncaring Force._ Please, I can’t.  
  
_When he opened his eyes again, she was sitting before him, her knees curled_ _up to her chest. His gaze couldn’t meet her face, because he didn't know what he would see if he looked in her eyes. He had to look away. Her presence was like a blade stabbing clean through his chest, after a day of daggers cutting him raw._

_He couldn't have her, and yet here she was taunting him._

_She rose to her feet suddenly, and began to cross his small quarters._

“Ben?”

_He flinched at her softness, her familiarity, and quickly turned away, raising his arm as if to protect his body from the heavy blow of her words._

“Ben?” _she cried again, softer. She seemed so far away. She reached out a hand tentatively._ “Beloved, please...”  
_  
_ He was scared of her. He was scared of how he felt for her, how badly he ached for her in her absence. It was ridiculous. Pathetic. He couldn't want her. He had to let her go.

 _He froze again, then drew up to his fullest, towering height, and stared down at her, shaking his head._  
  
“No.”

_The cold syllable lingered in the air like a blaster bolt frozen in place. He knew its power as soon as it left his lips. It had the power to destroy._

_It had to work._

_He felt the thread connecting them in the Force, and cut it, letting her disappear from his sight as the vision ended, her hand reaching out frantically for him._

_But as she faded from the empty chamber, he could still hear her voice ringing in the metallic room, a cry of shattering anguish._

“BEN!”

_Her voice was raw, desperate, pleading, but he couldn't let himself hear it._

_He wiped the cold tears from his wan cheeks, undressed, and laid down in his bed, uncomfortable as it was._

_Though he turned over and over, burying his head in his pillow and covering his ears, he couldn't stop hearing the terrified shriek of a sad, lonely Jedi calling his name._

_Night after night, it rang in his head. He felt a tugging at the severed thread between him and the last known Force user in the galaxy every day; a clock that tolled ever day for her, a painful reminder that he had gotten what he wanted.  
_

_And it became impossible to sleep._

  
  
_The sleepless nights stacked on top of each other like a deck of cards, each as grim as the last._ The months went on in slow succession, every day a battle of wills with sparring officers.

_There was little light in these days. Nothing glowed. No spots of brightness glimmered through the chrome halls of various Star Destroyers. He barely walked on planets anymore, but in the rare occasions he was allowed to leave the large First Order flagship, he stayed on command shuttles._

_He ate very little. He slept even less. He pushed his body to the limit in his cold chambers when he was awake late at night, muscle fatigue replacing his thoughts of her, of anything._

_He was the heir to Lord Vader. He had gotten what he had wanted. But this wasn’t it._

_He took no pleasure in his work. He felt grim satisfaction every time he saw a military operation or a construction project from concept to completion, certainly, but satisfaction was not joy. There was no pleasure in this. There was nothing._

_His new mask was completed. It showed his face. His humanity. His eyes were dull now. There was no need to hide them any longer._

_He sparred with the Knights to keep in shape, but he couldn’t focus. He was perhaps becoming worse at fighting, if that were at all possible._

_There was no end in sight, but he couldn’t end it himself._

_He tugged at the black ribbon on his wrist when he was surrounded by others and needed to breathe. It was all he had left of her. He told himself every day it was time to let it go, but it seemed to shimmer just the smallest bit despite the shadows engulfing it and he clung to that glow like a dying plant. He needed it too much to throw it away._

 

_His officers were proud to report that they had, beyond a shadow of a doubt, located the Resistance base._

_Takodana. Of course. He had given them the intelligence to move, to extend the cat and mouse game. Above his new half-mask, a muzzle containing a voice modulator and breathing apparatus, his eyes had glazed over with the routine boredom of leadership._

_“Begin the attack,” he waved the order dismissively from his throne. If the girl had been too foolish to relay the information that would save her friends, she deserved whatever his generals could devise._

_As the uniformed officers processed out of his throne room, he felt an unbidden pang of familiarity. Perhaps she wanted him to find her?_

_Perhaps she was suicidal, he thought angrily. Her pathetic choices were none of his concern. This would finally bring the incessant pulling from her side of the bond to an end. He would finally have peace. He barely gave the assault a second thought after approving it._

_However, though he tried to ignore it, his mind kept drifting to the attack. He was studying designs for another massive floating base like the Supremacy, but with more escape hangers in case an insurgent army would try to kill themselves to destroy the First Order again. However intently he tried to focus on the schematics, his mind kept drifting to the battle over Takodana._

_Takodana of all places. He was shocked by his mother's boldness. Of course, she knew he wouldn't think to look at one of his father's classic haunts. A favorite getaway for pirates and scoundrels was just the perfect site for his abhorrent mother's feckless little rebellion. The obviousness of it all sickened him._

_However, his stomach lurched further when a senior officer approached him, hands clutched nervously together, to announce that the base had been a trap, and the Supreme Leader was wanted on the main deck immediately._

_Kylo threw the man across the throne room before entering the lift._

 

_The bridge was in chaos._

_The Resistance had led them to a military sarlaac pit, and the First Order had fallen right in, leading to heavy casualties and petty squabbling amongst the officers._

_Kylo's fury erupted in the room, and when his vision returned, his angry red blade was in his hand and several machines were little more than smoldering scrap on the floor._

_He didn't care how they proceeded as long as the infighting stopped._

_He barked half-baked commands at whatever lesser officers hadn’t lost their spines in the wake of his rage._

_His ship was to be prepared, and they were to make the drop just outside the Resistance blockade._

_He would personally lead a squadron of TIE fighters in to allow some of the larger craft to escape._

_He didn't care if he lived anymore._

_He hadn't cared for a while._

_This was preferable to another day watching the galaxy from the shadows of an empty throne room. From turning a blind eye to Hux’s insipid machinations. From wishing the pain and self loathing would relent for a moment so he could rest. From knowing the only rest that would free him was too shameful to pursue. Another day forgetting the girl he had once loved. He had seen a future with her in the Force. He could have taken it. He could have left with her on the landing pad, and never had to look back._

_But he had given everything to the First Order. Why stop now?_

_Time to give his life, he thought, settling into the cockpit of his beloved ship. Destroy the Resistance, even if it kills him._

_It was all he had left: hatred._

_He enjoyed the feeling as his TIE silencer dropped out of the launch bay and soared out into space. The stars were pinpricks of light in his peripheral vision, but even on a mission to destroy, this was the freest he had felt in months._

_When he dropped into the atmosphere, he appreciated the rush of adrenaline that accompanied entering into the middle of the fray. His ship felt like an extension of him, and he was able to dodge the clunky Resistance ships easily. Piloting once more, it almost felt like he was alive again._

_A speedy X-wing broke from another fight to engage him. He could feel the Resistance pilot Dameron in the cockpit. It would be a fun little duel, he thought. A dance to the death. No greater way for either pilot to die, he thought, thoroughly satisfied by the prospect. Hopefully the First Order was using this distraction to slink away and lick its wounds._

_Diving and weaving around Dameron felt like a game, like when he was learning to maneuver ships as a child, but it quickly grew joyless, and he let the malice fill his heart._

_Suddenly, he felt a jerk in his mind; the thin, invisible string connecting him to the other Force user, the one he felt being tugged daily, was again being pulled, but this time with great insistence. He dodged a bolt from Dameron at the last moment, but not before a voice broke through his consciousness._

Kylo Ren.

_No. She couldn't be here._

_She couldn't see him like this._

_He couldn't see her._

_He had spent so long trying to rend her from his mind so he couldn't feel her, and yet here she was._

_He was exposed to her, he knew. He was afraid of her, of what she did to him. Of what he had likely done to her._

_She was threatening to undo everything._

Ben? _she called again. There was a tenderness there._

_His vision went blurry. Not from rage this time._

_His focus was broken._

_He heard a bolt from Dameron coming, and he didn't swerve away in time._

Rey, _he thought weakly, as he felt the world shudder around him under the impact of the blast._

_The controls were worthless. He tried to jerk the ship upright, but it kept spiraling to the planet’s surface._

_Instinctively, he felt into the Force to try to catch himself, but the ground was coming too close too fast._

_He wanted it to end, but not like this, he realized._

_Not in front of her._

_She couldn't see him weak_

_He should just die._

_Let the ship fall._

_Let it all fall away._

_He began to lose his sight again, but he felt as if the ship were slowing as the trees whizzed past._

 

Rey…

 

_He could see the impact before he felt it._

_He should have stayed._

_He shouldn't have let it go this far._

_He shouldn’t have let her go._

  


The vision broke like a wave breaking on shore, and the two resurfaced into the light of morning.  
  
Ben Solo was staring down at his lap, glancing tentatively at Rey from underneath his unruly hair, his eyes hidden. He retracted his hand, curling it against his chest. His thumb rubbed his right wrist through the layers of wrapping.  
  
His voice was faint, the only sound in the forest.  
  
"I showed you that so you would understand why I felt I had to do what I did. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve your pity or your mercy," he said slowly. "You just deserved the truth."

Rey was thunderstruck. Silent, cold tears coursed down her cheeks, her lips parted in awe, or was it agony? It took a moment for her breath to come back to her and her eyes to clear. As she returned to herself in the cool dawn, she scraped the old linen of her arm wraps against her cheeks, drying her tears. Her gaze was fixed on the ground in front of her, the new memories flashing through her head, slippery and powerful as eels in a river. Then she turned her eyes back to him.

He _had_ heard her, felt her, missed her...loved her. After everything. And now he had shown her his deepest shame, his greatest weaknesses. The man before her was raw, exposed, a naked nerve ending subjected to far too much pain to bear. Much like her these last months.

_We are too entangled to be parted without both of us being bloodied._

“Ben...” she whispered, voice thick with emotion and disuse.

Slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, she drew closer to his side, her eyes never leaving him. She rose to her knees before him.

 _Detachment be damned_ , she thought, letting the last paltry vestiges of her resolve crumble.

Then carefully, as if he was the most precious thing in the galaxy, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing close to his warmth and notching her head in the space between his neck and unbroken shoulder. She took in a deep breath and waited.

He was too stunned to move for what felt like an eternity, but he slowly tilted his head until it touched hers.

There was a spark in the Force when they connected; the frigid distance between them melting into a comfortable silence, the Force a gentle whisper.

She closed her eyes and burrowed deeper into him, soaking in the warmth of him like a spinebarrel reaching for the sun.

“Oh Ben,” she sighed softly, “what have we done to each other...so much pain.”

He wriggled his left arm free and wrapped it around her waist, holding her tight against him.

"It's all we know," he said.

She shook her head into his neck, his skin smooth against her cheek.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she murmured.

"I won't pretend that what I feel for you is healthy. It's too consuming and complicated but..." He shuddered under her caress. "I think it might be the only thing I can feel that hasn't been controlled or weaponized."

He let his hand run along her side.

"It's real. It's the most real thing I have ever known."

Her heart jumped. Reluctantly, she pulled her face away from him, leaning back to look at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I think...I think this is what it’s always supposed to feel like. Not being alone all the time.”

She paused for a slow, thick breath, his hand on her waist coaxing her pulse to racing.

“Even now, in a base full of people who I consider friends, I still feel so isolated. But you...you know me, in my deepest soul, you understand me. I think I’ve never been known by anyone in that way...”

He looked up at her finally, shaking his dark hair out of his face to reveal a thin sheen of sweat and tears along his cheeks. His eyes were red and puffy.

"And you know me," he said. He let out a bitter laugh. "Well, now you do. Now you've seen me. You're the only one who has even tried."

He removed his hand from her side and tentatively, fearfully brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"And you never gave up."

She leaned into his hand, the caress against her face bringing back memories of a far-away night on a far-away beach. Since then she’d seen dozens more oceans in her travels. Not one of them had made her feel the way she had that night; peaceful and whole and, for the first time in her life, not alone. She had sworn on that beach that she would fight for him, for them. It was the only thing that kept her going on the nights when it would have been easier and kinder to just give up. The alternative would have killed her, she was certain of that.

“It’s what I’m best at,” she said softly, a wry tinge in her tone. “I fix broken things and I wait.”

Then her eyes steeled, catching his in an unwavering grip.

“And I fight for what is mine,” she said, her voice quiet but laced with such force that he could feel her resolve in his broken bones.

He let out a dry chuckle.

"I'm glad to know that you still consider me yours after everything I did to push you away, but you're not responsible for fixing me," he said, letting his thumb run along her cheek. "You’ve done the external fixes, sure, but I've got a lot of work to do on myself."

He smiled, faint dimples creasing his cheeks.

"Though I think being around you might be good for me."

She tentatively returned the smile, her fingers absently drawing little circles on the back of his neck.

“It’s all that Jedi innocence,” she smirked. “Careful, I might corrupt your broody, not-Sith wickedness with all my purity and sunshine.”

He melted under her touch. He looked deeply into her brown-green eyes, bright in the early morning light. She had slept well, he could see; she seemed stronger today, her resolve returned. Her light was back. His gaze gently fell on her lips, full and pink. He knew them once, and might yet know them again, if he was worthy.

He met her stare again.

"I'd like to see you try."

She quirked an eyebrow.

“Is that a challenge, Ben Solo?” she purred softly.

Her wandering fingers trailed up his neck, scratching gently at the base of his skull.

That name again. He had hated it once. Now her words felt like she was welcoming him back to a home he had never known.

His pulse began to race. He let his fingers trace down her jaw until he had her chin between his forefinger and thumb.

"You do have an advantage, because I can't exactly fight back," he said with a low chuckle. "But I feel like I'll be more than challenge enough.”

She gave a tiny gasp, her eyes fixed on his. His gaze and touch burned where they came in contact with her.

“Do you now?” she murmured. She was transfixed.

He could feel her hand on his scalp drawing him in. He thought it might be a sign. He was leary of taking her forgiveness too far, but he could feel the heat radiating off of her. He didn't dare brush up against her mind yet, but there was a lightness flowing from her in the Force that had been mostly absent since he woke up after the crash.

He leaned in, captivated by her, when he heard an alarm that made him jump. He felt soreness leap back into his broken bones as he jolted away from Rey.

The noise was coming from her bag.

She pulled back, old reflexes immediately prickling to life. Extricating herself from his grip, she dove for her pack, digging through to her flashing datapad.

She read the display and uttered a low oath in Teedospeak before turning the offending tech off. She scrambled around, haphazardly stuffing her pack full of her supplies before casting a guilty glance back toward Ben.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she mumbled.

He scanned her fretfully.

"Is everything alright?"

She paused, shame roiling in her gut. The reality of it was that, despite their feelings for each other, he was still the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Their enemy. Her friends had fought and died to cripple his regime.  
  
“Everything’s alright. I’m just supposed to be in a meeting right now,” she said quietly.

“A meeting?” he asked, trying to keep the curiosity from his voice. “Nothing too boring, I hope.”

“Not sure,” she muttered, afraid to admit too much.

“Well, is it anything important?” he asked, his heart still pounding relentlessly against his chest from their physical contact.

 _Come back_ , he silently begged as he watched her prepare to exit.

“It's with Poe,” she whispered.

"Poe?" The name caused his every ligament and sinew to tighten. Dameron. Of course.  
  
Perhaps he should be grateful that the pilot shot him down; showing Rey the truth had lightened an impossible burden on him, and he almost felt giddy from the absence of it.  
  
But then to have her forgive him, only to have her leave to meet with the cocky space jockey?  
  
He hated himself for the tightening in his abdomen, for the anger uncoiling in his veins. He was, against all reason and sense, jealous of the man.  
  
"Oh," he said, trying his best to seem nonchalant. "Go on, then."

Rey flinched. Part of her wanted to stay; the selfish animal in her guts wanted to stay here and let the rest of the day play out, duty be damned. The responsible side of her, the one that bled Resistance colors, itched to get back to the base, to finish the operation and emerge victorious from the ashes of the First Order. To see her friend.  
  
She finished packing, stalling as she adjusted her jumpsuit around her waist. In a quick movement, she reached out to grab his free hand tightly, squeezing firmly as a small smile quirked her lips up.  
  
“I’ll be back,” she promised.

“Don't rush on my account," he grumbled, craving her touch immediately after she let go. He let his back rest against the wall and sighed, closing his eyes. He felt like a child all over again, when he would beg his parents to stay with him. He remembered their countless "Goodbye, Ben" sessions, where they tried to convince him that they would return before he realized it, even though they often didn't come back for days or weeks at a time, caught up in some large diplomatic struggle or system-wide military skirmish. He would wait and hope they remembered to send a holo for him to let him know he was still somewhere in the back of their scattered minds.

Eventually he gave up expecting to see them at home at all, and considered himself lucky if a blue facsimile of his beloved mother or father would call on him.  
  
Again he prepared to watch a person whom he cared about walking out the door with no sense of her return, and he was powerless to follow.  
  
He opened his eyes and lazily waved goodbye. "Take care of yourself."  
  
He turned his head to watch the wall. He couldn't stand to see her go.

She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it with a quiet sigh. Arguing with him was useless at this point. She stood to go, looking down on his petulant display.  
  
“Don’t forget to support your shoulder when you lie down,” she said numbly. “Wouldn’t want to undo all my work.”  
  
She turned to go. “I’ll see you soon, Ben,” she murmured.

He heard the alarm on her datapad through her bag. Begging was useless. He'd just have to wait. He lacked her patience for that kind of thing.  
  
"I'll be here when you get back," he said with a sad smirk. He didn't enjoy time spent alone with himself before the crash. Now it was worse; he had nothing to do but ruminate on his misdeeds and try not to think of the pain coursing through his body.

Her responding smile was luminous but brief as she closed the door behind her. Pressing her back against the rough wood door, she let out a mighty breath, her heart racing from the morning revelations. She shook herself out of it and dashed for her speeder, praying that it would get her back to base in enough time to keep suspicions from arising. She sped off into the woods, the warmth of Ben’s hand still radiating from her skin where he had touched her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was advised to maybe take a 15 minute break from being sarcastic and instead be genuine (?) and heartfelt (???!) for a change. 
> 
> I want to thank all of you who have made the jump over from CMWIA to Sighs of Fire. This story series fan fic/Shakespeare AU thing has been a big undertaking and I was really worried about lightning striking twice. Special thanks to MissHarper, Doroleia, and Nebride for commenting on both works and letting us know that things are going ok. You've been on this ride with us for like 5 months now and that's awesome. ~~Your tears sustain me.~~ It's good to know our work has an impact on you, and trust me, you influence us all the way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe laughed. “I don’t know what you clowns would do without me. I mean, Rose would be fine.” He shot a wink in her direction, and gave her a brief, friendly hug. “But without me to supervise, who else would look out for you and Rey?”
> 
> His eyes scanned the quickly dispersing crowd around them.
> 
> “Speaking of, where is our Jedi?”

Of course there were dozens of crew members present when Poe Dameron’s X-wing touched down in the hangar on Takodana; everyone wanted to be on hand to celebrate the man who had eliminated the Supreme Leader. When the alert had gone out to all personnel that he was arriving, many dropped whatever duties or leisure activities they had been pursuing that morning to greet him. There was a clatter in the mess hall as a number of trays were hastily dropped and benches pushed away from tables as the crew scrambled outside.

Poe felt their gratitude as he climbed out of the cockpit and into the balmy Takodana air, BB-8 beeping and chirping giddily behind him. He was met with cheers, friendly pats on the back, handshakes, hugs. He felt as if his feet were barely touching the ground; he was being pulled and tugged and carried by the will of the gathered crew. Only when he reached the edge of the crowd was Poe able to understand his unusually enthusiastic welcome.   
  
They were thanking him for restoring their morale. He hadn’t just shot down an evil, vindictive tyrant. He had brought back hope that an end for this war was in sight. 

BB-8 stopped abruptly to emit a cheerful squeal. Poe turned and was almost knocked down by a flying hug from Finn. Thankfully Rose followed with a gentler hug that grounded the three of them.

“Look at this man. Our hero returns!” Finn said, releasing his vice on his friend.

“Hey, you just can’t get rid of me,” Poe said, his tone nonchalant. He genuinely did not want this warm reception to go to his head; he had a lot of work to do around base now that he was back, and he had done enough damage with his ego in the past. However, he couldn’t resist the joy radiating off his companions. It felt good to do something right for a change.   
  
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Finn said beaming, an arm still resting on his friend’s shoulders.   
  
“I know, that’s why I assigned myself to this base.” Poe laughed. “I don’t know what you clowns would do without me. I mean, Rose would be fine.” He shot a wink in her direction, and gave her a brief, friendly hug. “But without me to supervise, who else would look out for you and Rey?”   
  
His eyes scanned the quickly dispersing crowd around them.   
  
“Speaking of, where is our Jedi?”

“Haven’t seen her,” Rose said, an edge of irritation in her voice. “I just knocked on her door to see if she was coming, and she didn’t answer.”

Finn’s brow furrowed. “You sure she wasn’t in there? It’s not like Rey to sleep in.”

Poe didn’t want to trouble his friend, so he did not mention that it was unlike Rey to sleep much at all. He had watched the dark circles grow underneath her eyes, carefully cultivated like a farm crop. He didn’t know how Finn had missed it, but he didn’t want to bring it up.

“It’s fine guys,” Poe said casually, waving a hand. “Maybe she just got lost in the crowds. This is quite the welcome party, I gotta say. You’re going to make me blush, and that’s not an easy feat.”

“Well, we can’t wait to hear all about your adventurous flight,” Rose said. BB-8 bleeped and chirped something that sounded like encouragement.   
  
“Oh come on, that flight was nothing to write home about. I’d rather hear about what you guys have been up to while I’m gone.”   
  
Throwing his arms around his friends’ shoulders, he sauntered off towards base, grateful for the extra support Finn and Rose provided; his legs were tense from the long period of disuse during his flight, and he was a bit shaky from the cramping and hunger.

On the way to the command center, the tingling in his toes eased up enough that he could begin walking independently, and Rose offered to get Poe a snack since they had plenty of time before the morning briefing. Though Finn had offered to stay, Poe sent him off, too.  
  
“I have to look over a few briefings before the meeting. Want to make sure I have my facts straight before I start spouting off to you all. Take your time. Have your breakfast. You know where I’ll be,” Poe said, waving his hand dismissively. “And besides, we have the whole day to catch up. You’ll be sick of me by dinner.”

With a wave, he saw his friends off, and placed his hand on the door panel.

He was surprised to find the round meeting room was already occupied.

“Rey?”   


Her face lifted from the datapad she was perusing at the sound of her name. Her eyes lit up and her expression followed.

"Poe!" she beamed, flitting across the room towards him. "Welcome back, flyboy!"

She wrapped her friend in a tight hug. The ozone smell of space still clung to his flight suit.

"We've been missing you like crazy down here," she said, her chin hooked over his shoulder.

“Oh you have, have you?” He wrapped his arms around her to return the surprisingly strong hug, grunting as he did so. “Really, I couldn’t tell.”  
  
BB-8 rolled up beside them and in a demanding series of beeps tried to wrest Rey’s attention off Poe and back to itself.   
  
"Sorry, BB-8, I forgot who the real star of the show was," she giggled, extricating herself from Poe to get on the droid's level so she could scratch affectionately at its little round head. "Of course we missed you, buddy. You're the one keeping the rest of us in line."  
  
BB-8’s responding bleeps and squeals were almost flirtatious in their pure delight, Poe thought, but at this point in their friendship, he was used to being upstaged by the little astromech.   
  
“So what are you doing in here?” Poe asked. “Meeting doesn’t start for a bit. Rose said you weren’t in your room when she came knocking.”   
  
He laughed to himself. “I can’t believe you’d miss being part of the welcoming committee just to be the first one in here.”  
  
Something flashed momentarily across Rey's eyes, but it was too fast for Poe to catch. "I was up extra early, so I took a long walk." Her gaze was fixed determinedly on BB-8 as she absently smoothed a minute kink out of its antenna. "Besides, you know how I get with crowds."  
  
“Understandable,” Poe said with a shrug. “You just had me worried is all. A lot has happened these last few days. Just wanna make sure my friends are safe.”  
  
He scanned her quickly. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry? There’s plenty of time to grab caf before the meeting. The minute I open my trap half the room is probably going to fall asleep, so you know, stock up while you still can.”

She laughed. "Oh come on, I haven't had a good night's sleep in months. Don't deny me a solid nap when it's finally in my grasp!"

“You could at least pretend that I’m interesting for a little while, miss Jedi!”

"What, so your head gets so big that you can't fit into a cockpit anymore?" she chortled. "Not when I can catch a couple of winks."

He laughed, a warm genuine laugh. It was good to be among friends again. The exhilaration of the dogfight with Kylo Ren and his quick departure out on his decoy flight had been fun, but he knew the minute he entered the Phaeda system and the high wore off that he was going to be anxious until he was back among his companions again. 

He was grateful Rey seemed to have gained her sense of humor back in his absence. When they first met after Crait, she had been distracted, as had they all, but still vibrant and hopeful but patient and rational, a perfect counterpoint to his and Finn’s reckless optimism. However, several months prior, she had returned from a mission even more distant and distracted, and though she occasionally seemed to be her old self, there was something eating at her that Poe did not feel at liberty to explore.   
  
Now it seemed for the moment like the haze of despair of the past several months had lifted from the young woman, though he was curious to see if it would last. 

Her smile dimmed a few kilowatts and her expression became more sincere. She stood up again with a final pat on BB-8's head.

"I'm really glad you're back," she mumbled. "I was watching the dogfight you got into with..." Even saying the name almost felt like a betrayal, she thought as she paled. She rallied and attempted to insert her formerly jovial tone back into her voice. "You had me worried."

"Worried? You? You've got an entire religion to resurrect and you're going to waste your time fretting over me?" he grinned at her, and began to fiddle with the fastenings on the front of his bright orange flight suit. 

"You're too kind, Rey, really," he said softly. "I think you watching over me might have given me that extra boost I needed to take that monster out, right?" He winked at her.

Rey fought to swallow a flinch. Little did Poe know, but she  _ had _ been partially responsible for his opponent's distraction. And now, with Ben Solo lying injured but alive in her cabin in the woods, sharing in Poe's victory felt even more hollow. Guilt, it seemed, was to be her closest companion from now on.

"Yeah..." she trailed off, lost in her thoughts.  
  
Just as quickly as it had sparked, Poe watched Rey’s light dim.   
  
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said gently, extending an arm out and pulling her to face him. He smiled reassuringly. Was that what had been eating at her?  
  
“He can’t hurt you anymore, alright? He’s gone. No more Sith Lords.”  
  
“He is—wasn’t a Sith,” she mumbled too quickly, her mouth running away with her thoughts. 

"Not a Sith?” Poe asked, taken aback at her certainty. From the stories he’d heard as a child in the Resistance, Sith were perhaps the closest thing to walking nightmares that lived in the galaxy, and he had seen some vicious creatures in his day. When he came face to face with Kylo Ren, he hadn’t flinched, but he knew he was staring at the most vicious of them all.

“He...was just a man...and that almost makes it worse,” Rey said, catching herself.  
  
“Well, whatever else he was, he was scum. A beast," Poe declared.

He enfolded the dazed Rey in a protective hug. "I've felt him digging around in my head; I can't...I don't want to imagine what he'd try do if he got into yours. But he will never get that chance. We made sure of it."  
  
How could she tell him that she’d invited the beast in? That the monster that had tortured him lived at her mercy? The truth clawed up her throat from her stomach, seething and reaching to escape, but she grit her teeth and swallowed the words. She thought of Ben, of the light only just there behind his eyes, faintly glimmering with promise. She couldn’t take this chance from him. 

She looped her arms loosely around his waist, briefly soaking in his meager body heat. Strange, she mused, that Poe, her friend, wasn’t warm in the way that Ben, her...whatever he was, blazed with heat. She leaned in deeper to the pilot, seeking out the same kind of bone-deep comfort that Ben provided. She couldn’t find it. But this was enough. 

“My hero,” she muttered with a small smile.  
  
She seemed to Poe to settle back into herself. He didn’t know what to make of her behavior, but as she embraced him, he felt more certain that, though she was erratic, she was more comfortable and confident than she had been in ages.   
  
He was so busy in assessing his friend’s state he didn’t notice the door open.   
  
“Are we...interrupting something?” Rose asked, carrying an armful of fruits and a mug of caf. Her eyes scanned the two embracing with some fascination. Finn shuffled in after her with a tray of pastries, and stopped suddenly, eyes wide.

Rey extricated herself from Poe’s arms as casually as she could. She grinned easily at her friends.

“Nah, Flyboy was blubbering about how much he missed my bright shiny face,” she teased.

Poe nudged the younger woman playfully.

"And Rey was just professing her profound gratitude for that time I ended the Dark Side without using the Force."

Finn and Rose nodded. Neither were convinced.

"Right..." Finn said, cocking an eyebrow at his friends and smirking. "Well, if you two want to be left alone, you just let us know."

Rey rolled her eyes.

"We get it, Finn, you and Rose are blissfully in love, but you don't have to pair up the rest of the base," she snickered.

Rose sputtered in consternation. Poe threw his head back and laughed.

“You were the ones canoodling in the command center!” Rose shouted, almost spilling the mug of caf.

Rey cackled. “ _ Canoodling _ ?”

“You two were getting pretty close,” Finn said with a laugh, coming to Rose’s rescue.

“Yeah! What else am I supposed to call that?” Rose asked demonstratively. Poe walked over to grab the mug out of her hand and a jogan fruit to prevent any accidents that were likely to follow if the conversation kept escalating.  
  
He was not the least bit disturbed by the notion of being paired off romantically with Rey, which took him by surprise; he just couldn’t imagine she might be interested in him in that way. In fact, on a lonely, stormy evening several months ago, he had offered her some friendly physical attention, something to ease the stress war and the pending evacuation had placed on them, and she had politely declined. He knew better than to try again, to push her any more.   
  
“It was called ‘Rey thanking me for taking out our friend Kylo Ren,’” he said. 

Rey tensed, her eyes blank with a mix of poorly concealed panic and pain. She opened her mouth to reply.

“Well, when you put it that way, I want to canoodle you, too,” Finn interjected. “Come on, big hero guy, give us a smooch.”   


Rose and Poe burst out laughing, and several innocent fruits and pastries met their end on the floor as the group doubled over in mirth. Rey huffed a little laugh, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Alright, fine,” Rose relented once she could catch her breath. “I’ll drop it.”   
  
“And all the food in the mess hall apparently,” Poe added, and they broke out into another fit of laughter, just like old times.

Out of the corner of his eye, Poe noticed Rey standing stiffly, barely laughing.  
  
He didn’t know how Finn or Rose could miss the change that Rey underwent, but he didn’t want to disturb his friends by mentioning it to them, at least not today. He had considered seeing if Rose had noticed that Rey’s bubbliness seemed tempered in the previous weeks. But here it was, on full display. He tried to make eye contact with her, but Rose was still juggling the fruit and stifling another wave of giggles.

Something was wrong with Rey, but he didn’t know how to probe it, and he certainly didn’t want to pry. As additional Resistance crew members began flowing into the command center, his attention was pulled off his friends and onto more pressing issues.

Poe was pleased to report to the assembled group that all pilots had successfully avoided First Order detection. Many had already made it to their rendezvous points or the new base to begin the final phase of the operation. They were waiting on the all-clear from the generals to begin the final evacuation of Takodana, one that should come within a week or two, Poe announced to a rousing chorus of cheers. He noticed that Rey seemed apathetic to the news.

The meeting concluded with the Admiral welcoming Commander Dameron back to Takodana and refreshing the crew on the day’s assignments. They were dismissed promptly after.

As the crowd dispersed, Rey seemed back to whatever counted as “normal” again, chatting breezily with Rose, but Poe couldn’t help but overhear the murmurs of the crew around him.

“You know he’s still alive right?”   
  
“No, the Jedi would have got him.”   


“They never found his body.”   
  
“Was that even Kylo Ren?”   
  
Poe bristled at this. Of course he had read the reports that had stated that there were no human remains in the wreckage of the TIE Silencer; after the fire had cooled, they did a sweep of the craft and found no charred bones or teeth or scraps that indicated that a human had been in the cockpit at the time of the fire. Poe didn’t see this as reason for concern, however; no man would have been able to survive a fall from that height. And as Rey had noted, Kylo Ren was merely a man. He had met his mother, after all.   
  
Poe assumed that Ren’s body had been ejected over one of Takodana’s many lakes or rivers, which is why the search teams’ frequent sweeps had yet to locate the Supreme Leader’s remains. He tried not to let it rankle him too much.

Once the meeting ended, he approached his friends.

“So what do you folks do around here for fun?”   
  
BB-8 chirped a warning.

“I’m with the droid. Aren’t you exhausted?” Rose asked.

“You should probably rest. It’s been a long few days. We’ll still be here, you know,” Rey added.

Poe waved them off.  
  
“Please. All I need is a shower and a change of clothes and I am ready for anything,” Poe said nonchalantly. “You all aren’t working until this afternoon. We have plenty of time to catch up.”   


“Poe,” Finn said quietly: a warning. “You know it is too early to be drinking.”   
  
“Okay, fine. We break for a bit, I’ll freshen up, we hang around until you all have to work, and then tonight, we have a little party. What do you say?”

Finn and Rose accepted instantly.

“Uhh…” Rey scrambled to think of an excuse to not have to deal with more sentient interaction; she had been steadily running out of her stores of what she called “people energy.” She didn’t know how Poe and Finn could do it. “I don’t know, guys, I’m supposed to be armpit deep in salvage today, I’m not going to be much in the way of company…”

“Come on, Rey,” Poe whined. “A little socializing will do you good, get the color back in your cheeks. One drink with us tonight, and then we’ll let you go, my hand to Yavin.” 

She sighed mightily, her brow furrowed in a show of reluctance. 

“I’ll think about it,” she said firmly.

  
  


 

The night air was cool against her skin, the leaves above her restless in the breeze. The sound reminded her of the ocean rushing on Ahch-To. The hut brought that recollection back too. It was quiet and the faint light of the candledroid filtered through the cracks in the door. She pushed it open as silently as she could and slipped through on stumbling feet. 

The party was either the best possible thing or the worst for Rey’s tumultuous thoughts. All day, Rey had replayed Ben’s memories, over and over until they nearly felt like her own. One hundred ninety-seven days. He had cut her off, but never forgot her. His fractured spirit, ever in conflict, had severed contact to protect them from the pain of their separation, and in doing so, inflicted more agony on both of them. All in an attempt to save her from further loneliness. 

The Supreme Leader, a cruel wraith terrorizing the galaxy. Ben Solo, a sad, lonely man who had destroyed his one chance at happiness. The two were one. And both loved her enough to let her go.

She couldn’t erase the hurt he caused; it lived just under skin like poison in her blood. But she had held him that morning, and it was if a weight that had been chaining her to the ground was removed. She felt as if she were floating, freed from the burden of her rage against him. The Jedi texts had said, “Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering.” And oh how they had both suffered from that wretched path to Darkness. Too many nights lost to insomnia and cruel imaginings of the other. Too many days spent seething over pointless revenge and useless anger. So much time and energy wasted. But now she was free. They both were.

She knew his loneliness as acutely as she knew her own. He thought he could remove it by not being reminded of what he had given up on Canto Bight; she had known the only true way to eliminate the sorrow of being alone was remembering, feeling. Because even if it hurt, the feeling of pain was a reminder that you were still alive, still fighting. 

He had a lot to learn. But he was opening up to her. He was getting closer. One step at a time, her Ben was returning. In his own way, he was thoughtful, caring. He believed in causes wholeheartedly, just like the General, but had his father’s spontaneity, his exuberance. He cared, by the Force, he cared so much. And he loved her, even when it hurt him to do so. The Ben Solo the galaxy needed was finally awakening to the Light, and she was lucky enough to witness it.  
  
In the cabin, however, he was asleep, spread out on the pallet as much as possible. The dim glow cast hollow shadows on his eyes, around his torso, over the blanket clutched in his free hand. He looked beautiful, peaceful even, in the quiet of sleep. Rey’s heart fluttered at the sight.

His dreams were soft for a change; it was a blessing, given that sleeping, healing, and ruminating on his bountiful mistakes were the only tasks he could find to occupy his time.    
  
In one dream, he was walking through the gardens on Chandrila, as he had done with his mother many times as a child. He dreamt of wandering past blooms of many colors and scents, rows and rows of them, when a hand reached for his.   
  
He knew who it was without turning; he savored the smaller hand curling lovingly around his larger one.   
  
He gave it a squeeze, but when he turned to look back, she was gone.   
  
He heard a noise that shattered the dream, and his eyes fluttered open slowly. It was dark outside. He wasn't sure if he had slept through the night or not, but at long last, his only company had arrived. It had been a long day waiting for her return.   
  
He had spent a lot of time learning the architecture of the tiny hut. The walls were made with surprisingly sturdy logs overlapping at the corners. The supports in the ceiling were smaller sticks covered in bark and brush and a patchwork of the forest.

She was propped up against the opposite wall, chewing absentmindedly on a protein portion and reading something on her datapad, the blue light illuminating her features.

She hadn’t noticed her patient’s wakefulness.

He gradually urged himself up, resting on his good arm.

“Do you just hang out here now?”   


She started at his voice, the datapad tumbling from her stunned fingers.    
  
“Kriffing hells, Ben!” she exclaimed, placing a hand over her racing heart. Her shock turned to hysterical giggles. “You scared the living Force out of me!”

"You know, I'd have thought the Resistance would let you have a pet or at least a decommissioned R2 unit or something," he said. "If you want someone who's always happy to see you, there's gotta be a cuter companion than me on this rock."   
  
She folded over in her fit of laughter. When she finally caught her breath, she looked over at him with dancing eyes.   
  
“What, you aren’t happy to see me all of a sudden?” she quipped.

"If I scared you that much when you knew I was here, how do you think I felt to wake up with a stranger next to me?" he asked, a smirk dancing on the corners of his lips. 

"I'm ecstatic, honestly. I have been waiting all day to corrupt my Jedi captor."

"Oh and now I'm a stranger?" she pouted, mirth glimmering in the crinkles around her eyes. "Maybe I should get a decommissioned R2 unit; at least  _ they _ don't try to corrupt their friends!"   
  
Her face softened then. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long," she murmured. "I had a hard time getting away."

He paused, studying her.

"We're friends?" he said in mock astonishment. "Since when? Did I get a say in this?"

She smiled, luminous in the dim cabin.    
  
"Nope, none whatsoever," she chirped. "It's all that Jedi sunshine I've been secretly dosing you with."

He let himself fall over dramatically at this, releasing a mock frustrated grunt.   
  
He couldn’t ignore the stale smell assaulting his nostrils.   
  
“Rey, you smell like a backworld cantina. Are you...drunk?”

She blew a raspberry in his general direction. 

“No…” she slurred indignantly. “No, no I’m not. I had one...to three shots of, kriff what did Poe call it…” She grinned widely. “Jet juice!”

“Jet juice? That stuff is basically engine fuel laced with all the booze you can find on base. How…” He groggily tried to piece together Rey’s evening. “How did you navigate a speeder here while highly intoxicated?”

She wagged her eyebrows and wiggled her fingers. “The Foooooorce…” 

“Rey, that’s...that’s not how the Force... nevermind.” He let out another exasperated sigh. He didn’t think he could babysit an intoxicated Jedi at full strength, let alone in his current state.

“What time is it, anyway?" he asked, massaging his temples with his good hand. "I wasn't sure you were coming. Now I’m just amazed you made it on piece."

She winced, guilt curling in her stomach.    
  
"It's late," she mumbled, "well past midnight."    
  
She drew her knees up, resting her chin on them, shrinking into the wall.   
  
"I am sorry it took so long to get back."

_ I didn't want to go in the first place, _ whispered a wistful voice in the back of her mind.

He felt the longing return that had kept him up most of the afternoon, despite his exhaustion. He wanted her back in the sweltering little hut with him, to tease him, flirt him him, insult him, curse him, anything. However, his impatience threatened to rip him apart.

Every waking moment he remembered his most awful dreams-- of Rey, captured and tortured, impaling herself with his lightsaber-- and replayed them in his mind. He could hear her scream his name from when he cut the bond, the sound even more painful now because he knew the damage her had caused her. And worse still, he imagined her with that flyboy…and hated himself immediately for his own selfishness. His bored imagination concocted these visions that threatened to push him over the edge, back into the dark place where he had been the previous night.   
  
"I'm sure your friend the pilot was happy to see you," he said, failing to keep the bitterness from his tone.   
  
He hadn't entirely escaped that dark place after all.

She sat up a bit, his barb stinging where it landed. Her rational mind didn't want to rise to his baiting, but it had been a long day, and she was too tired and too intoxicated to take the high road.   
  
"He was, actually," she said sharply. "And I was happy to see him. That's how  _ friends _ are, they're happy to see each other when they haven't in a while. And occasionally, they give you delicious drinks with way too much liquor in them so you relax. Have fun. Enjoy each other’s company."   
  
She stretched her legs out again, crossing her arms.    
  
"You ought to try it sometime," she muttered to herself.

"Sorry, either my tail was too broken in the crash to wag for you or I was too deep asleep to appreciate that you’d arrived," he grumbled.

She snorted at the image, then fell quiet, letting the silence stretch between them.   
  
"Did you really miss me so much?" she asked dreamily after a while, her tongue stumbling over the words. "That you thought I wasn't coming back?"

He froze. He couldn't look at her face. He just gazed at the wall next to her. Maybe it was a contact high. Maybe he didn’t think she was truly present in the moment listening to what he was saying. Maybe sharing the vision with her that morning had broken down his walls for the time being. Whatever the reason, he didn’t feel he needed to hide.   
  
"Every time I hear that speeder bike fly off, I wonder if that will be the last time I see you," he muttered, his voice a low rumble. "I try to listen for ships taking off, in case you're on one of them and you never come back."   
  
He shifted uncomfortably; it wasn’t often that the sober gave mournful confessions to the intoxicated. "Not that you're leaving me on purpose...Okay, maybe you're leaving me on purpose, if I’ve given you enough grief. But maybe the Resistance left, and you had to go on without me."    


Ben had come to one firm decision as he studied the rough-hewn cabin walls that day: because he had told her the truth about his feelings, shown her the rawest nerve he had, he wasn’t going to retreat into the Darkness to hide from her anymore. Even if it hurt to tell her the truth, to rip himself open and expose his fears to her.  
  
He shrugged his good shoulder. His voice was soft, pensive. "I'd survive on my own, somehow. But I don't know how I'd make it off-world to find you again."

His words sent a pang of familiarity and sobering clarity through Rey's insides. How many nights had she lain awake in her dusty little home on Jakku, listening to the ships screeching through the atmosphere to land at Niima Outpost? How many times did she watch people take off and never come back? How many times had people he loved done the same? He was just as afraid of being abandoned as she was.    
  
She pushed away from the wall, swaying only a little bit, and crawled over to sit beside him. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, make him see that she wasn't going anywhere. But he was too closed off, too wounded. How arrogant was she to think that one touch of her hand would bring him the comfort he needed?   
  
"I want to tell you that I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly. "I want to promise you that I won't abandon you here without warning." She paused, searching for the words in her foggy head. "But we've both been left too many times to believe hollow words and empty sentiments."   
  
She touched his cheek, the scruff on his face tickling her drink-dulled fingers, turning his gaze up to hers.   
  
"Just know that you're not alone, even if you feel like you are. I'm here, I'm with you."

His voice faded to near silence, like a gust of wind in the space between them.   
  
"I'm scared, Rey," he said, his eyes boring deep into hers. "I don't know what's happening, but I am scared. I'm scared of losing you. Of what happens next. Of not knowing what will become of me. All of it."

He looked away. He was pouring his heart out to a drunken Jedi novice. All the things he had wanted to say since the morning, since she left, the thoughts that had been stewing all day... He wasn’t sure if she was listening or processing his words, but regardless, he felt better getting them out.    
  
He balled up the blanket tightly in his hand. "I don't like being helpless, you have to know that, but...my fate is completely in your hands. And you haven't given me reason to believe you'd intentionally hurt me, but..." 

"I'm scared too," she admitted. "I'm scared every day that the next time I come out here, someone will have followed me.”

His eyes found her again, regarding her seriously. Despite her slurred speech and general state of intoxication, he could feel her in the Force, sharp and clear; she was listening to him carefully, and speaking from the heart, as best she could manage.   


“Or they'll find you,” she continued. “Or...or that your injuries will become infected and you die alone out here in the woods and I won't know until the next time I walk through the door..."  
  
She knew peripherally that she was rambling, but she couldn't help all of her insecurities rushing out of her like a swollen river of anxiety and exhaustion.    
  
"I'm terrified that one day you will have disappeared..." she murmured. "And I'll be alone again, and I won't be able to find you."

"Whoa, hold on," he said, his tone lightened. "What's this about infection and why didn't we check for that sooner?"   
  
Though there was sorrow still in his eyes and brows, a small smile seemed to quirk at his mouth.   
  
"I promise, I won't go anywhere without letting you know," he said, then paused. "Well, anywhere of my own volition, at least."   
  
His tone lowered again.   
  
"Letting you go on Canto Bight was my biggest mistake, and rather than trying to admit I was wrong and wanted you, I dug in deeper. I left you to feel as bad or worse than I felt. I shouldn't have done that. I hurt you, and worse than that, I broke my promise."    
  
He shook his dirty locks in frustration.   
  
"I don't know if I'll ever earn your trust back, but know that I'm not going anywhere. And I mean it.”

There were many words he couldn’t say to her, words he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to say or she was ready to hear. Instead, he took her hand in his. "You're not going to be alone if I can help it."

She looked down at his large hand engulfing hers. His palm was smooth and warm and it sucked the chill of panic out of her bones. She let out a shaking breath.    
  
"I don't know how much you  _ can _ help that right now," she whispered, "but thank you. Really, it means more than you know to hear you say that."   
  
She squeezed his hand, giving him a watery smile.

"I’m not sure how much I can really help anyone when it takes me about five minutes just to sit up," he muttered jovially.

She chuckled.    
  
"Down to five minutes already?" she said. "That's an improvement!"   
  
Her voice took a clinical tone then. "How are you feeling?"   
  
“Aren’t you a little too...impaired to still be playing doctor?” he asked, smirking.

She stuck her tongue out at him childishly. “I might be a smidge tipsy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take care of you.”   
  
"I think I've made the great medical leap from 'worse than I look' to 'about as good as I look,'" he laughed, taking his hand back and running it through his hair. "Though I suppose I will need your medical advice to supply the 'how I look' part."

She grimaced. "Honestly?"

He winced. "Maybe I need to revise that diagnosis. Go on?"

"Ben, you look like nerf-shit," she deadpanned. "So I'd say it's definitely an improvement."   


She carded her own fingers through his hair.    


"What is nerf-shit an upgrade from, exactly?" he asked, his irritation manifesting as a very severely cocked eyebrow.

"Half-dead and bleeding internally?" she ventured with a snicker.

He rolled his eyes, enjoying her fingers on his scalp. He almost felt embarrassed at how matted and greasy his hair was, but she didn’t seem to mind.   
  
"Your scale is so generous," he muttered sarcastically. 

She eyed him critically. "Although I am definitely bringing you soap and a razor the next time I come. You're in need of a wash, I'd say."

"I won’t fight you for more hygiene products. It gets very hot and uncomfortable in here in the daytime."   


He grabbed her wrist gently to pause her motions. "But please don't feel obligated to wash me yourself."

She raised her eyebrows.    
  
"And what's the alternative?" she retorted. "You half-assing it with one arm and getting your bandages wet? If you want something done right, you do it yourself."   
  
She allowed herself a tiny blush.    
  
"Besides...I like your hair," she mumbled. "Who knows when I might get another chance to get my hands on it?"

Her honesty was startling, but refreshing. He had to thank the jet juice; they were being open with each other, at least, without screaming or crying. He released her.   
  
"Well, if you insist. But I can take care of..." He gestured vaguely to the blanket covering his large form. "...the rest of me.”    
  
A playful thought crossed his mind. “Unless there's something else you want to get your hands on."

She sputtered and immediately withdrew her hand; the tiny blush blossoming into an inferno.

"Well, then," he said, folding his arm behind his head with a cocky smirk. "Should I assume that's a yes?"

“Ben!” she squeaked, shooting him a look that was all daggers, albeit amusingly misaimed daggers.    
  
“Ugh. I never should have said anything nice. I knew it would all go straight to your head...”   
  
She stifled a yawn.

"'Should have?'" he laughed. "That's implying you can keep your tongue from slipping. Come on, sleepyhead. Tell me how you really feel."

“Well isn’t that what you want?” she huffed petulantly. “My tongue slipping?”   
  
She cocked a challenging eyebrow.   
  
"Slipping where, miss Innocent Jedi?" he purred. "The way you're talking that tongue isn't quite as pure as you're making it out to be."

She rolled her eyes.    
  
“Oh no, I’m not falling into that sarlaac pit,” she retorted. “I’m not giving in to your filth. And I’m not sheltered, if that’s what you’re driving at. For all you know, I’ve already been corrupted.”   
  
Her point was immediately undermined by a jaw-cracking yawn that curled her shoulders up and made her squeak.

Trying to block out intrusive thoughts of Rey  _ with _ other men, he sighed humorously. "While I would love to play the 'you're trying to corrupt me; no, I'm already corrupted' game with you all night, I'm putting my foot down."   
  
He looked at the blanket covering his long legs.    
  
"Metaphorically, of course," he added, before continuing.   
  
"You either have to camp out here for the night or get on your speeder right now and head home. I don't want you to get in an accident because you fall asleep on the seat. Though I’m not sure I trust you on a speeder either way. I’d like my captor to be alive and not splattered against a tree when I wake up.”   
  
He shrugged. “I’m selfish like that.”

“I’m fine!” she argued weakly, trying to hide the next yawn that slipped out. “I’m already sobering up…” That might have been a lie.

He raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Come on," he said, pulling his arm free and dropping her bag in her lap with the Force. "I can't have you taking care of me if you're not well cared-for yourself. Either get comfortable or get going."

“You’re just dying to sleep with me, aren’t you?” she muttered through a bleary grin.    
  
He shot her an incredulous look, but did not deny it. He craved a companion for more than an hour at a time, even if they didn’t talk.   
  
She really was tired, and he made an excellent point, although sleeping here would mean slumbering on the dusty floor and fielding taunts from the Supreme Adolescent on the pallet. She had slept on the floor before, had slept on far worse when she was first starting out; it didn’t bother her that much. Her sleepy, hazy brain thought back to that morning, to the differences of heat between people. Ben floated to the forefront of that thought, warmth and comfort and...safety. That sounded nice…    
  
She shook her head free of her thoughts and started to unwrap her hair tie, scraping her fingers along her scalp.    
  
“Alright,” she grumbled, “but no funny business, got it?”

He was glad she was likely too busy preparing herself for bed to notice the absolute shock that crossed his face. He hadn’t imagined his threat would actually work. He hadn’t thought through the ramifications of what he was asking. Though he was glad they were again on friendly terms, the two of them were at each other's throats constantly; of course, this was mostly his fault, he admitted, but this would likely mean that they wouldn't have to worry about being discovered by the Resistance. They would kill each other before dawn.    
  
"Oh, I'm very well behaved," he said, placing her pack on the ground near his pillow. "Just keep that slippery tongue where it belongs."

Almost inaudibly, he muttered, "It's not like you haven't slept with me before."

She paused, her fingers caught in a tangle in her hair. He was right. But things were different this time.    
  
She turned her back to him, blushing slightly.    
  
“Eyes to yourself, if you’d be so kind?” she mumbled, fumbling with the front of her shirt.

He made a dramatic show of throwing his hand over his eyes.    
  
"How does it feel when the boot's on the other foot, huh?" he asked. He closed his eyes behind his fingers. No temptation.  _ Be a gentleman _ , he chided himself in what he almost thought was his mother's voice.

Since when did he listen to his mother?   
  
He opened his eyes, peeking between his fingers.

She had peeled the off-white undershirt down to hang at her waist, and was in the process of unfastening the thin band from around her chest. She sighed in quiet relief as the cool air hit her bare skin. Her muscles slipped beneath the span of smooth golden skin as she stretched her arms up over her head. Her spine popped and she hummed happily. She pulled the shirt back up and fastened it shut, tossing her breast band into her pack and turning back around.   
  
"I'm done, your not-Sith eyes are safe," she said sleepily, tugging her boots and socks off.

He smiled a groggy, hidden grin as he removed his hand from his face. She was quite beautiful, he thought, though that opinion had been steadfast, even in their time apart. However, in this moment, he had relished the small movements of her body, little details that weren't supposed to be seen. Stolen glimpses of her that were his alone. The long planes of her back were radiant in the dim light of the candledroid, muscular yet delicate. A memory awakened in his fingertips: the caress of her back on a dance floor so far away. Her arms lifting her shirt had revealed the scar she received on the Supremacy, so long ago.   
  
Little signs of her. Pure Rey. He adored them.   
  
He was glad she didn't have to go.   
  
However, he didn't say that.   
  
"My chaste eyes thank you," he snorted.

She smiled, her gaze warm. "They're welcome," she replied.   
  
Rey reached across him to fluff up the support under his right shoulder.   
  
"Do you need a tune up before we go to bed?" she asked quietly. She was too tired to care about the intimacy of the statement. Or the position for that matter.

"Wouldn't hate it if you're sticking around," he said, feeling her brush across his chest and trying to keep control over his eager heart rate.

"Alright, up we go then." She helped push him up to sitting before quickly starting to unwind the bandages around his chest.

He exhaled slowly as she freed his cramped joints.    
  
"Pardon the smell," he said through gritted teeth. "Can't help it. It gets suffocating in here."

"Trust me, that smell and I are old friends," she chuckled. "Jakku isn't exactly the pinnacle of cleanliness and fresh summer breezes. Bath day was every other week if you were lucky. You ever smelled a hapabore?...in general?" She made a flourish with her hands that implied the obviousness of her point. “So believe me when I say that I've  _ definitely _ smelled worse.”

"Are you making everything a challenge on purpose?" he asked slyly. "Do you actually enjoy my musk or is that just a convenient side effect?"

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You're the one who keeps bringing it up," she said. "I'm just saying that I don't mind it, so you shouldn't feel self-conscious."   
  
Rey refocused. "Got the feeling back in those fingers yet?"

He wiggled them, feeling the pins-and-needles sensation.   
  
"Yes, it's coming back. Perhaps a bit too quickly," he said, hissing. "What I wouldn't give for a quick dive in a bacta tank. This healing yourself thing is awful."

"Don't I know it," she said wryly.

He reached his good hand over to her shoulder, tracing the pad of his finger along the faint scar.    
  
"I fell out of the sky and lived to complain about it another day. You, however seem relatively unmaimed, in the grand scheme of things," he said softly.

She shivered under his fingertips.    
  
"I've had my fair share of bad falls over the years. Some of those falls were even accidents," she replied quietly. "How do you think I got so good at treating broken bones without a lot of tech?"

"Ah, I did wonder that," he said, sighing. His heart, rigid and cold as it was, ached for the Rey he hadn’t known, the lonely girl forced to care for herself in horrendous conditions. "Lucky me, huh? Not only did you choose not to kill me, you were also talented enough to save me."

She shrugged. "I don't think it's luck. I think the Force just has a warped sense of humor."   
  
He smirked at that. She was quiet for a while, struggling to keep another yawn in. "Ready? Won't take a minute."   
  
He let out the characteristic grunts of discomfort as he moved his arm into position for her mending, but he enjoyed her gentleness in rewrapping the sling. Her touch was a sacred balm that eased a deeper ache; he hadn't known to ask for this kind of medicine.

True to her word, she had him bandaged in no time, although her skilled movements, usually so sure and quick, were a bit slower than usual due to her inebriated state. She had to remind herself to not get distracted by the wall of muscled warmth that he presented. 

When his arm was secured, he shifted his body over towards the wall so Rey had more room on the padding beside him. He lifted his leg with his good arm and beckoned her to lie down.   
  
"Get comfortable, if you can. The blanket is all yours. I don't think I'll need it tonight," he offered, perhaps a bit shyly.

Lulled by the promise of a cozy place to lie down, it took her a moment to realize what he had just offered.   
  
"Wait a minute, you are not sharing your bed with me; you're a giant and you need space to sleep," she fumbled, her face blazing and her words slurring in her haste to speak. "I'll take the floor, I'm fine."   
  
He was taken aback by the certainty of her rejection.   
  
"No, don't you take the floor. You're more exhausted than I am, and I couldn't live with myself if you slept on the dirt," he said, trying to be firm and sure, and not appear desperate for her to sleep beside him.   
  
He tried to suppress the sweet memory of Rey, dreaming against his chest, in her deepest phase of sleep taking long, slow breaths that caused her thin back and shoulders to rise and fall in a soothing rhythm beneath his cape. In his arms. It was a new sort of meditation on the Force: watching her, feeling the life flowing through her, breathing in the energy of the galaxy in the small woman resting in his arms. The night had been too brief, but it was the last time he had known peace.   
  
He didn't want that now, he told himself. They had just resolved their fight that morning; it was too soon for any sort of friendly intimacy. He genuinely wanted to look out for her; this degree of concern was a foreign feeling for him. He'd feel guilty to leave his caretaker on the ground when she had done so much for him.   
  
If she didn't touch him again for the whole night, he still knew it was the right choice.   
  
"Here," he said, throwing his blanket to his side. He balled it up and pressed it until it was a long serpentine lump along the left side of his body. He drew himself up as close as he could to the wall.   
  
"This is my side. That's your side," he said, gesturing to the strange nest he created. "Now my weird, gigantic hide won't be able to bother your slumber."

"That's not what I..." she protested. "You're not-- Ugh! You're so dramatic! I just don't want you to be uncomfortable!"    
  
She huffed, exasperated. Then her tone softened. "You're in enough pain as it is, I don't want to make it worse."   
  
Sharing space with him wasn't the problem. Sharing a bed with him was the exact opposite of the problem. She didn't know how to say it without sounding like a drunk, lovelorn idiot. She wasn't lovelorn...   
  
With a sigh that sounded like "fine," Rey crawled onto the pallet, trying not to let on how amazing the residual heat felt on her heavy muscles. She eyed the blanket lump before unrolling it and flaring it out over her own legs, thumping her pillow into a semblance of comfort before curling up, defiant.    
  
"There's no need to be children about it," she muttered. "Besides, I get cold at night."

The minute she settled in beside him, he could smell her earthy scent mingling with the stale jet juice: a surprisingly comforting concoction.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable either," he said, exhaustion sapping at his will to fight. "You're the woman who saved my life. I owe you that much, if it's all I can do for you right now."   
  
He jutted his good arm out of the way to make room for her. He looked over victoriously, noticing her back to him.    
  
She was small, he knew, smaller than him in every way he could think of, but lying so close to him right now, she seemed larger than life. He wanted to brush her hair with his fingertips, to kiss her head as she fell asleep again.   
  
He would just have to settle for the warmth of her presence, and consider it a gift.   
  
He summoned the candledroid to his hand and switched it off, submerging the small hut into the dark of the forest.   
  
"Goodnight, Rey," he whispered.

The gentleness of his voice sent a flutter through her heart. In the dark, the warmth, the smell of him surrounding her, she could almost imagine that it was  _ her _ Ben behind her on the old mattress. She could believe that he'd come back to her.    
  
She turned over slowly, trying not to rustle the bedding too much. Then, tentatively, she reached a hand out from under the blanket and delicately rested her fingers against the smooth skin of his good arm.    
  
He was here; solid, warm, alive. He had come back.    
  
"Goodnight, Ben," she murmured.

His eyes, which had drifted shut, bolted open and his heart hastened as he felt her fingers against his upper arm.   
  
She was facing him, looking at him. He wanted to take her hand, to kiss her fingers. To thank her for taking countless chances on him.   
  
He just froze.

Feeling him tense, she retracted her fingers.    
  
“Ben?” The name was little more than a breath against his skin.

His breath escaped in a nervous pant. His mind had gone blank. He wanted to tell her how he felt about her, but he was so scared. She wouldn’t forgive him. Not yet. He knew what he had done. The guilt was back, chewing away at him.   
  
He could feel her so close. He wanted to reach out to her, but the fear held him anchored.   
  
"Yes, Rey?" he whispered.

She took a deep breath and pressed her hand against his shoulder, the heat of him scalding through the calluses on her palm.    
  
“...I’m here,” she murmured softly. “You’re not alone.”

"You're here," he repeated, enchanted by her. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze.    
  
"You'll be here through night," he said, a question more than a statement. The disbelief that she chose to stay hadn’t quite fled.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she answered, her voice a gentle caress.    
  
She tentatively scooted closer after a moment, approaching like a skittish animal. Her fingers slid through his, interlacing gently. She prayed to every deity she could name that he wouldn’t reject her encroaching presence.    
  
“Is this okay?” She was fading fast, drowning in the feeling of his skin under her fingers and his warmth so close, lulling her toward sleep. Being beside him again felt...right.

He turned his head, and realized just how close she was. He could feel her shallow breaths near his lips, he could feel her pulse leaping through her body to his.    
  
"This is perfect."

His response was the last thing Rey heard before drifting off, her soft breaths gusting gently against his skin, her fingers still squeezing his unconsciously.

He felt into the Force, her energy washing over him, slowing his racing heart and pulling him closer to sleep. Her hand pressed neatly into the crater-shaped scar on his intact shoulder.    
  
He kissed her fingers where they peeked out from his, and fell into a serene, finally dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, there's only one bed...
> 
> Also it's TheLady's birthday, so please leave your party kudos below.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’d like to propose a toast to the real man of the hour.” Poe raised his cup, eyes scanning the crowd to make sure everyone else did the same before continuing. 
> 
> “To Kylo Ren!"

Rose couldn't put her finger on what exactly was wrong with Rey, but whatever it was, the jet juice seemed to help...slightly. Maybe.

Really, Rey had always been out of sorts as long as Rose had known her, the young woman’s mind somewhere beyond the stars. However, since the battle, she seemed more distracted and distraught than ever, and yet in fleeting moments possibly more delighted than Rose had ever seen her. This bizarre series of contradictions played out over the course of the party celebrating Poe’s return to base.

Rey at first protested to going; after she returned from digging for usable scrap in the destroyed TIE fighters, she had attempted to slip into her room unnoticed.

Finn and Rose had prevented that.

“It's not a party without you!” Finn had loudly declared. “And it's for Poe. You know,” he waggled his eyebrows, “ _Poe_.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I almost want to go wander off into the forest and get lost forever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It's not like that, Finn.”

“I know, I know,” he said, waving away her denials. “But regardless. Come hang out with us. We miss seeing you.”

A look of concern had crossed Rey’s face.

“We know you’ve been...out of it since the battle,” Rose said gently, slipping into the lull in conversation. “It took a toll on a lot of us; we get it. We just figure, you know, maybe this party will help you blow off some steam?”  
  
Rose put a tender hand on Rey’s shoulder. “Please? Just for a bit? It’ll mean the world to Poe.”   
  
Her voice dropped. “And to me. Please don’t leave me alone with these moof-milkers.”

Rey chuckled, a smile breaking across her face. She exhaled a loud, put-upon sigh.

“Rose, you are too good at guilt-tripping people,” she said.

“Hey, maybe that’s my Jedi power: Force guilt-trip,” Rose said brightly.

Rey laughed outright. “That’s not how the Force works, but if it was, you’d be a master.”

She slung her arm across Rose’s shoulder. “Alright, alright! Let’s do this.”

Though Rey had seemed in high spirits, Rose watched her quickly wilt once they arrived in the grove just beyond the base where the party was already well underway. A number of crew members mingled around a bonfire with loud music pumping from unseen speakers. The sheer size of the party seemed to cause the Jedi to blanch as soon as they had entered. They wandered closer to the fire. Rose didn’t see who had placed a cup in hers and Rey’s hands, but Finn assured them it was safe.

With a shared nod, the girls threw the cups back and finished the dark liquid in one gulp. Rose’s nose and throat burned.

“Kriff, Finn!” she sputtered. “What is this?”

“Jet juice!” Poe said, sauntering up to the group and throwing his arms around Finn and Rey, who was also taken aback by the strength of the shot and coughing in surprise. “It’s...well, you don’t really want to know. But it’s fun. Rey, I’m so glad you made it! Finn, I owe you a credit for that.”

“Hey! You bet _money_ I wasn’t going to show up?” she coughed. “I should feel insulted, but I can’t quite feel my tongue, so that’s distracting me from my indignation.”

“That’ll wear off soon,” Poe said with a dismissive wave. “And there’s no need to feel insulted. We were just hoping…monetarily...that you would show up.” He gave her a shoulder a shake and kissed the air near her cheek.   
  
“We miss our girl when she’s running off doing Jedi stuff,” Finn said. “And when you’re not doing Jedi stuff, you’re working or…” The alcohol was fogging up his mind now, too. “I dunno. Poof! Off somewhere where we can’t find you.”

Rey visibly tensed. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “It’s been...it’s been a weird couple of months. I don’t know…” She had smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t want to drag you all down into my shit with me.”

Rose shoved Poe away and wrapped her arms around Rey, the initial rush of the alcohol compelling her to bury her face in Rey’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry about dragging us down, Rey. I know we don’t all get what you’re going through with the Force and all, but we’re here whenever you need us,” she said.

She turned her warm eyes on Rey. “Your burdens aren’t too big for us to carry, okay? Don’t forget that. You can always talk to us. Your shit is our shit.”

“Wow, that sounds gross when you put it that way, Rose,” Poe said, grabbing more cups of jet juice from a passerby and handing them around to the group.

“Oh, kriff off,” Rose snapped with a laugh. “You doe what I bean. Beanth. Okay yeah, by tongue ith numb too.”

“Did...did we just get Rey to open up to us?” Finn said in mock astonishment.

“You know, if you keep making a big deal out of it, I’ll never tell you anything!” Rey grumbled. Before Finn could open his mouth to apologize, she snatched a cup out of Poe’s hand and lifted it high.

“Come on, let’s drink to Poe’s safe and glorious return. May the stars always smile upon you, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Hey, that’s my job,” Poe said, abruptly stepping away from the group and onto a nearby stump.

“And now that you mention it…”

He cupped a hand around his mouth. “Everyone! Can I get your attention? Just for a second?” he shouted, drawing the eyes of the assembled party-goers. The conversation ceased. The music was shut off abruptly. Where was it even coming from?

“Thank you all for throwing this wonderful shindig. I don’t know who started it, but I’ll tell you, I do not want to be the guy who ends it,” he said, and a ripple of laughter traveled through the crowd.

“But until then, I’d like to propose a toast to the real man of the hour.” He raised his cup, eyes scanning the crowd to make sure everyone else did the same before continuing.

“To Kylo Ren! May the ground spit your bones out where your corpse comes to rest, and may whatever hell you believe in welcome you with open arms!”

A rousing cheer and a spotty chorus of voices shouting “To Kylo Ren!” followed, and the raised cups were tipped back in unison.  
  
Rose thought the toast a little crude, and paused before taking a polite sip. She watched Rey.

Her friend’s eyes were squeezed shut, her forehead creased. For a moment, Rose thought that she’d already taken her shot until Rey tossed the vile liquor back in one jerky motion. Then she snagged her hand on Snap Wexley’s sleeve as he passed her by.

“You drinking that, Snap?” she said hoarsely. “No? Thanks.” She downed the shot before the pilot could open his mouth to reply. She shook off the burn with a grunt. “R’iia, that shit smarts.”

Rey seemed to slip into the shadows after that. Rose caught a few more glimpses of her, standing like a fathier in a searchlight at the fringe of conversations; she seemed like she would take off running if addressed directly. Rose didn't think it was possible Rey could get more withdrawn, but she witnessed it in the half-light of the campfire. She tried to address her a few times, to draw her out from herself. Rey just slurred one or two-word answers.

As the evening wore on, Rose thought she saw Rey warm up, chatting happily with the pilots. She might have even glimpsed her friend laugh a few times.

Then, as was usual for Rey, she vanished without another word.

On a whim, Rose knocked on her door as she walked clumsily to bed.

“Rey?” she called. “You make it alright?”

The door wasn't shut tightly. Rose gently pushed it open.

Rey’s bedroom was empty.  
  
  


Ben's formless sleep broke, but he kept his eyes shut. He was becoming used to the slivers of pale sunlight striping the little cabin this early in the morning. It was so different from his quarters with the First Order, where ambient lighting simulated a sunrise to pull him out of sleep. He was always awake before those particular lights served their function.  
  
However, on this morning, he enjoyed feeling the hum of life from beyond and within the walls, the ripples in the smooth current of the Force dancing around him. He breathed in deep. Then he remembered.

His eyes snapped open to view the sleeping form beside him. Rey was curled up with her back to him, her head on his arm, and her spine in line with his side. Her thin torso lifted and fell delicately with each breath.  
  
In the night, the blanket he had given her had shifted. So as not to disturb her, he flicked his bound fingers to gently guide the blanket back over her.   
  
He didn't know when she had to wake up and leave him again, but the peace he felt knowing she was here made the dread of her departure vanish.

  


Rey was usually a light sleeper; years of defending against nighttime raiders and sandstorms forced the necessity. Her insomnia of the past few months had also kept her awareness from really shutting down for the sake of rest. She slowly turned over as she came to wakefulness, warm and comfortable, the sounds of the forest bubbling through her mind. She sighed contentedly. She hadn't slept so well in ages. Not since...  
  
Awareness flooded in. A solid wall of heat blazed beside her and as her eyelids cracked open in the gray half-light, she noticed a pale expanse of bandaged skin stretching out in her field of vision. Slow, steady breathing shifted the air around her. _Ben_.   
  
She gingerly looked up, cracking a tiny, sleepy smile.   
  
"Hi," she whispered, her voice croaky from disuse and a mouth full of cotton.

His eyes blinked opened, perhaps a few milliseconds too fast, revealing that he had not been sleeping, but instead had been lying awake with his eyes shut.   
  
He hoped she hadn't guessed that in the faint light, he had watched her. Her peaceful breathing was intoxicating, and eventually he had pulled his eyes away and tried unsuccessfully to fall back asleep too. However, instead of resting, he just kept reaching out through the Force, sinking into the comfort of her Force signature, relishing her form so close to him.   
  
He stretched his body as best he could manage, letting a lazy smile rest on his lips.   
  
"Good morning," he said. "It's nice of you to join me.”   
  
He eyed her mischievously. “And how are we feeling?"

She winced slightly and yawned. She closed her eyes again and snuggled tighter into the blanket and his warmth, hiding her coloring cheeks in his skin.   
  
“Head’s not too terrible, just a bit dehydrated,” she mumbled into his arm, her lips nearly brushing the delicate skin with each word. “Honestly, this was the best I’ve slept in months.”

She groaned quietly, hiding her face in his arm. “R’iia, I’m so sorry about last night, I never get drunk like that. I’m so embarrassed...but first things first, I’m going to do great violence against whoever gave me that shit.”

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he twisted his hand and reached for her neck. Slowly, he began to knead his fingers into her neck and drag them up to the base of her skull, relieving the pounding in her head.  
  
"I wouldn’t want to be that guy,” he said with a soft laugh. “It’s a miracle that stuff didn’t strike you blind on the spot. But it seemed like you had a good time. I’m...I’m happy for you. You’ve been working so hard to take care of me. You deserved a night to relax.”

She hummed at the contact, her eyes still closed. Her fingers traced lazy circles around the scar on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you slept well, too. Told you sharing with me was better than the ground.”  
  
“I don’t think the pallet had anything to do with it,” she said. “It’s just barely better than the ground.”

The tender scarred skin seemed to thrum under her touch. His heart leapt.  
  
"Oh?" he asked coyly. "So what do you think was the cause, then?"

She shrugged with one shoulder, the blanket slipping down her arm.   
  
“Maybe it’s because I didn’t have to worry about a certain not-Sith in the woods,” she muttered, peering up at him with one eye.

"Oh, you worried about me?" he smirked, but then became somber.  
  
"In all those months, you never gave up, did you? You still believed in me, that I would come back."

She stopped, her eye closing again and she shook her head. She thought about the little book of tally marks in her pack.   
  
“I tried to reach you every day,” she whispered.

He tried to wrap his arm around her, but stopped rather than disturb her more.  
  
"Rey," he sighed. "I didn't think..."   
  
He turned his head away from her and stared at the ceiling. The affection boiling up for her was familiar, but tainted; he had been so eager to throw it away the last time he felt it.   
  
"You're probably the only person who has cared about me for more than my power. What I can do," he said. "I don't deserve that."

Her eyes snapped open and she leaned up on her elbow, looking down at him through a mess of chestnut hair. Her gaze was intense as she studied him. Then she reached over and pulled his face back toward her, gingerly tracing the line of her scar at his jaw with her thumb.   
  
“One day you’re going to have to stop believing that you are unlovable,” she said with a soft, sad smile.

"Historically, I have been," he said, almost losing track of his own thoughts as he studied Rey's sleep-marked face. "But you... I _hurt_ you."   
  
He leaned in closer to her. "My intentions weren’t malicious, but I can't undo the harm I did. And I can't thank you enough for what you're doing for me."

Her eyes dropped, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze on hers, terrified of the emotions shimmering behind his dark eyes. The hand on his face drifted to where his arm was strapped against his chest, and she squeezed at the muscle there.   
  
“I don’t want to think about the alternative if I hadn’t pulled you out of that ship,” she mumbled.   
  
She took a deep breath, her fingers curling into the bandage.   
  
“I felt you falling. And I couldn’t believe that you were actually there, that you were even real.” She paused. “I was...I was so angry at you. After all that time and the first chance I get to see you, you’re dying on the forest floor. I couldn’t let that happen. I still had to be angry at you.”   
  
She exhaled a short, breathy laugh.   
  
“I wasn’t listening to the part of me that was so relieved to see you that I wanted to cry...I had to live in a galaxy without you talking to me for one hundred and ninety-seven days; I couldn’t bear it if you were really gone...”

This time he shifted his good arm to offer a comforting embrace.   
  
As his hand rested on her bare upper arm, he let a memory pass through.   
  
The beach, empty and serene.   
  
Their foreheads pressed together.   
  
_"I will always be yours," she vowed through silent tears. "I am always with you. And the next time I can touch you like this, I will not let you go again, beloved."_   
  
_“Cyar'ika,” he uttered the Mandalorian term of endearment. “No matter where in the galaxy you go, I will belong to you. Remember that. No more masks. No more lies. The next time we are together…”_   
  
_His voice hitched, a sob threatening to rip him apart. “We will never be separated again.”_   
  
The memory broke.   
  
"I'm just glad you kept your promise, even if I was too weak to keep mine."

Rey leaned down to press her forehead into his bandaged chest.   
  
“You still have a chance, Ben,” she whispered faintly. “You can still keep it.”

"Do I?" he asked, burying his face in her hair. His voice was suddenly hopeful. "You still think so? You trust me to stay?"

She curled tighter into him, her fingers clutching at his skin.   
  
“I never stopped.”   
  
"I definitely don't deserve that," he said, his voice hollow with a mix of relief and despair.   
  
Despite how quickly he had cast her off to selfishly ease his own pain, she never gave up on him.   
  
He was weak, worthless, he told himself. He didn't deserve her at all. Love was beyond him.   
  
But yet...   
  
Her hair fell across his body, her face pressed into him. She held on for dear life while still being aware of his numerous injuries.   
  
She wanted him. She wanted _him._   
  
He could be good enough, he reminded himself. But he had to want to be better. He had to let out the Light within him.   
  
The Light hadn't hurt him before, he remembered. When Rey was in danger in the ballroom, he had called back the Darkness to protect them both. And it had receded. She had cast it away.   
  
Maybe there was something in him that was still worth a damn.

Rey dragged herself away from him and took his face in her hands, holding his focus tightly between her palms. Her thumbs brushed over his cheekbones.   
  
“Even if I freely give it?” she asked quietly, the question hanging in the air.

His heart beat so hard against his chest he wasn't sure how she was still stable; each beat seemed to shake him. He let his hand rest on the middle of her back and breathed deep, trying to collect his thoughts.  
  
"Even if you give it freely, I will make sure I do enough to earn it," he said, his voice little more than an exhale. "I wi _ll be_ enough to earn your trust again."

His words felt like new blood coursing through her body, like heat and possibility and understanding. His words felt like hope.   
  
With a gentle smile, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead, willing him to feel the lightness that had taken root in her heart.   
  
“That’s enough for me,” she whispered into his skin.

As she pulled back, he felt his pulse racing. He laced his fingers through her hair.   
  
"So does that mean you have me down for two promises now?" he asked playfully.

She laughed breathlessly, her smile like the sun peeking through clouds.  
  
“Think you can handle it?” she challenged, radiant under the dusty smudges on her cheeks.

He gently brought her face closer to his.  
  
"I think I'll need a little bit of help, but I'll manage," he said.

“All you have to do is ask,” she whispered, entranced. “I’m right here.”

He could feel her gentle breath against his cheeks. She hadn't pulled away as he beckoned her closer. Swallowing his fear, he leaned in and pressed a tentative, chaste kiss against her warm lips.   
  
"Let's keep it that way."

The kiss, barely a brush of his lips against hers, sent a spark through her body. Her bones sang and her skin tingled. She exhaled slowly, her breath gusting against his chin.   
  
_R’iia_ , she wanted to feel that again.

She returned his kiss with a fervor that she hadn’t anticipated. That spark had morphed into electricity which fizzled and burned in her veins. Her hands firmly gripped his jaw, the heat from his face further igniting the fire under her skin.

When his initial shock had passed, his eyes closed, savoring the sensations of her: the softness and wanting of her lips; the heat of her fingers on his reddening cheeks; the taste of her, and all the memories it carried.  
  
His hand rested on her neck, feeling the taut muscle under his fingers.   
  
He never thought he would feel her so close to him again. The many cold nights alone pacing the bridges of Super Star Destroyers in all corners of the galaxy, he would remember her kisses, just as hungry then as they were now.   
  
He would shove the memory away with a sharp fist to his side. But he never forgot. And he never stopped wanting.

Rey was drowning in him. An ocean light years away rushed in her ears as their kiss deepened. His hand on her neck was a brand that she prayed would etch into her very muscle. A scar to match the one she’d given him, that marked him as hers. Her hands roamed down from his face to his shoulders, drinking in every inch of him. She wanted to get as close to him as she could and never have to let him go again.

He could feel the anger and the sorrow of the past months falling away as she explored his mouth with hers, let her hands brush over him, claiming him.

Then something shrieked next to her ear.

And just as quickly as he became used to the foreign delights of a passionate caress, she pulled away, answering the call of her datapad.  
  
He stifled a frustrated groan. Always with these damned machines.

She was panting, trying to reclaim her breath and her sanity as she dove for her datapad to turn it off.   
  
“Kriffing piece of junk,” she seethed at the tech.   
  
At last she turned the howling device off and chucked it back into her pack. She glared thunderously, her chest still heaving.   
  
She turned back to Ben with an apologetic look; her lips were swollen and her eyes were sparkling and her hair was a mess. She blushed profusely.   
  
“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He let his eyes absorb her, frazzled and breathless and wearing the signs of their reconciliation on her flushed skin. He propped his head up and traced his eyes down her neck to the opening of her top. All was red from either embarrassment or arousal. He tried not to think much on the latter, lest his own body begin to give away his wanting.  
  
"Everything okay?" he asked, his eyebrow quirked as if to inquire if the interruption was fleeting or more permanent.

She rubbed her face and sighed mightily.   
  
“I have to go,” she said guiltily. “I have to be at morning briefing in about an hour.”   
  
She groaned into her hands.   
  
“I don’t want to go,” she muttered, wincing at the whine in her tone.

Dropping himself again onto the pallet, he reached over and pulled her hand away.  
  
"This is where I would love to tell you not to go, to stay here and avoid your responsibilities, but that is what a Sith who is trying to corrupt you would say," he said, planting a playful kiss on her cheek. "Go if you have to. Don't want to arouse suspicion."   
  
He yanked the blanket off of her and covered himself with it once more.

She squawked at the sudden loss of her cover but giggled at the wicked glint in his eye. Two could play at that game. She pulled away, digging for her breast band in her pack as she turned her back to him. She deliberately began to unfasten the front of her shirt before shooting a coy look over her shoulder.   
  
“Do you mind?” she smirked.

He was emboldened by her kisses, by her hands exploring him. He didn't shy away.  
  
"No, do you?" He cocked his head, his eyes fixed on her.

She shrugged, facing away again.   
  
“Suit yourself,” she said.   
  
She slid out of her shirt as she had the night before. She seemed not to care about his dark eyes burning into her back as she wrapped the thin fabric around her chest. Inside she was screaming, heart thudding against her ribs, mind racing as he watched her.

He appreciated that his boldness was returned in kind. Her skin was more radiant in the dim morning light. He could eye her eagerly, greedily, and without fear. He had traced his fingers down the low back of her dress on Cantonica, but had forgotten how her slender frame disguised the muscles beneath her skin. She was very powerful, he knew; he had told her as much before, but in the light of day, as he watched her dress, he remembered what amazing strength she hid.

Rey shivered; blaming the cool morning air for the sudden chill, rather than the feeling of his hungry eyes roving over her bare flesh. Feeling wicked, she raised her arms over her head, groaning softly at the delicious stretch of her spine, the air in the cabin crackling with tension. As quickly as she moved, she righted her shirt, fastening the front with trembling fingers.

As she stretched, he turned his head away. He knew she was playing a game, but he couldn't help but feel he hadn’t earned her, and that his gaze was not yet entirely welcome, despite their recent intimacy.  
  
He was too eager, too hungry. He wanted her perhaps too much.   
  
He let her have a moment to herself while he caught his breath and tried to center himself once more.

She turned around again, her face softening at the sight of Ben’s blushing face turned away. Crawling over to him, she laid a gentle kiss on his cheek.   
  
“You’re sweet,” she whispered with a smile.

He flushed deeper, his bashfulness again exposed.

Perhaps it was because now he was aware of his brokenness, both physically and mentally, and as long as he was reduced to life on this pallet in this tiny cabin, he couldn't disguise his wretchedness from her.  
  
"I'm not sweet; I'm just making an effort to not be as awful as I could be," he said with as much pride as he could possibly muster.

She had an idea and went to rummage through her pack. She retrieved her little journal and a scrap of graphite and presented it to Ben.   
  
“Here,” she said. “To keep you occupied while I’m away.”   
  
He thumbed through the book carefully with his one hand. On the first few pages were the tally marks Rey had showed him before. With the exceptions of a few sketches and doodles, the rest was completely blank.   
  
"You knew I could write?" he asked quietly.

She smiled.   
  
“I’ve been in your head, remember?” she said jovially. “I know your hidden depths.”

"If you've been in my head, why in the Force do you think I'm 'sweet'?" he asked, a ghost of a laugh following his words.

She finished tidying up, leaving behind a fresh canteen and a few ration packs.   
  
“Shall we sit you up before I go?” she suggested.   
  
He smiled sleepily back at her.   
  
"You know, by the end of the day I fully expect to be sitting upright on my own," he said, his voice commanding and officious, a reminder of the Supreme Leader he was outside of the little hut. "But until then, I entirely feel like a baby with a too-big head. Yes, please sit me up."

Rey laughed, bright and clear. She pushed him upright, giggling hysterically.   
  
“Stars, if your currently too-big head is any indication, I pity your poor mother,” she chuckled.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as her stomach dropped, instantly regretting the ease with which the words had left her. The fractured relationship between General Leia and her son was a point of grief for the older woman. How could she have been so stupid as to mention her to the prodigal son himself?

He wore his emotions in rapid succession on his face.  
  
"I pity her, too," he snapped, teeth bared.

Rey flinched at the edge in his voice, suddenly sharp enough to cut. It was a marked switch from the gentleness he’d shown moments before. The change was dizzying. And it was her fault. He’d come so far toward the Light and she’d shoved him right back into the Dark.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the boiling hot rage dulled into a simmering sorrow. As his face relaxed into a contemplative mask of anguish, he seemed to Rey somehow smaller than he was.   
  
He paused, staring at his bare feet peeking out from under the blanket. His warm dark eyes seemed even bigger in his pale, bloodless face. The black hairs poking out from around his mouth and along his jaw were stark.   
  
"I didn't feel her," he muttered.   
  
He suddenly looked back at Rey, his eyes wide with fear. "She isn't here, is she?"

She shook her head silently, a cold pit of guilt and sorrow lodging in her stomach.   
  
“No, she’s off-world,” she said hesitantly, unable to meet his desperate gaze.

She started to move away from his space, the air around him suddenly thickening with the flux of emotion.   
  
“Ben...” she said gently.

He exhaled the breath that had been constrained in his chest for a long moment. He was safe, for now. He knew the General could feel him as well as he could feel her, and if she stepped on-world, they would both know instantly.  
  
He could feel the Darkness trying to cling onto him again, drag him back under the surface. A distant part of him loved his mother, maybe even forgave her for sending him away in fear. But he also hated her for betraying him, hated her even as he was scared of her.   
  
She was smaller now, more aged and broken than the woman with long, chestnut braids who had sung him to sleep when she was around enough to care. And last time he had encountered her, he could have sworn she still did.   
  
He couldn't let Rey see him break.   
  
"I'm fine," he quietly intoned, gently waving a hand in her direction to indicate he was still present, still physically there, even as his thoughts were drawing him out of the current moment. "Like I said: there are some things I have to heal in my own way."

Rey nodded and gently slipped her arms around his neck, squeezing briefly. She could feel his need for some small reassurance that she was still here.   
  
“I’ll come back to you,” she murmured into his neck.   
  
She pulled away almost as quickly as she embraced him. If she remained in his orbit for much longer, she’d be tempted to stay. And she couldn’t do that, no matter how tempting an offer it was.

Her brief embrace seemed to fortify him.  
  
He gave her a weak smile, though his eyes still seemed to be scanning a far-off horizon.   
  
"Maybe I'll be wagging my tail when you get back."

She smiled, pushing the hair back from his face.   
  
“Good boy,” she said.   
  
She shouldered her bag and opened the door wide with a creak. She peered up at the sky with a bemused expression.   
  
“Looks like we might be getting rain in the next few days,” she predicted, shooting him a radiant, nearly feral grin. “I love a good storm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is just me subjecting Rey to a bunch of uncomfortable toasts.
> 
> This one was cribbed from my drafts for my brother's wedding. We're estranged now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am definitely ready for that bath, I guess."

The first rumble of thunder vibrated through the tarmac beneath Rey’s back. She stuck her head out from under the speeder she was tinkering with as the first few drops of rain began to darken the ground. The cool water on her face felt exquisite after the sweaty, humid, engine-grease day she’d had.

“Attention all personnel,” squawked the overhead speakers, “any outdoor duties are delayed until further notice due to severe incoming weather conditions.”

She rolled her creeper seat out from under the speeder with a laugh. She closed her eyes and spread her arms as the sky opened and the rain washed over her. Ahch-To, for all its frustrations, had introduced Rey to her favorite thing: thunderstorms. After a life on a desert planet, unable to ever really get the sand off of her, the driving rain made her feel cleansed in a way that she had previously never experienced. It was as though the water had sunk into her very pores and seeped into her soul, washing away all of the dirt and anxieties and wounds in a rush of blessed rain.

She bounced up, giggling girlishly and already half-soaked, and she ran the speeder and her tools back into the hangar, humming a lilting tune as she went. Shooting off a cheerful salute and a sunny grin to the officer overseeing the ships, she dashed back to her quarters to grab her pack. She’d managed to haggle the quartermaster into giving her an extra bar of soap and a disposable plastisteel razor in addition to her usual requisition earlier that morning. The Twi’lek officer had raised a delicately tattooed eyebrow but couldn’t say anything in the face of Rey’s razor-sharp bartering skills.

She ran through the base, blowing past anything and anyone trying to escape the rain before barreling out into the storm. She snagged her speeder from its spot in the hangar and zoomed off into the woods.

With the rain and the wind in her face, she was almost afraid for a moment that she’d veer off course and crash. But the Force was guiding her, exhilaration in motion, and she knew the way by heart by now. Leaping off her speeder in front of the cabin, soaked to the bone and humming gaily, she twirled in the pouring rain. She kicked the door open in her exuberance.

“Ben!” she laughed. “It’s raining!”

She was greeted with a gasp. When she turned to look at Ben, she felt a surge in the Force and saw his blanket rippling in the air as it settled on him.

He was leaning haphazardly against the wall of the cabin a few degrees closer to the center of the room. The roof seemed to be draining in the corner near where Ben's head usually rested, causing a small puddle to grow near his pillow. His hair, damp from a mixture of sweat and the water leaking in, was knotted back using the hair tie Rey had left behind. The bruising in his face had yellowed and faded, and the cut on his lip was now sufficiently masked by formidable black stubble.

He cocked his head curiously up towards the leak in the corner and stared, as if he were just noticing.

"You don't say," he said calmly. And then he turned his head back to her. "Also, hello, nice of you to come in."

His unbound hand fidgeted with the blanket at his waist.

Undeterred and practically vibrating with excitement, she bounded into the cabin, dropping her bag in a corner and stashed the hygiene products in her pockets. She scurried across the room and knelt beside him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You’re getting a bath today,” she said, eyes glinting with merriment.

She stood abruptly, unzipping the torso of her jumpsuit and tying the sleeves around her waist, baring a fresh gray undershirt.

“Come on, we’re going to stand you up and take you outside.”

“Oh!” she realized. “I should probably unwrap your arm and get the splint off. Don’t want you to mildew. That was definitely a new discovery after leaving Jakku...”

She knelt again, still talking a mile a minute, and went to tug the blanket away from his legs.

His sudden panic sent a spark of energy flaring in the Force.

"Rey," he said, his voice firm. "I'm very happy to see you, too, really, but for the sake of boundaries,  _ slow down _ ."

He yanked the blanket up higher on his waist and out of her grip, and brought his right leg out from underneath it to pin the fabric down.

Her brow crumpled in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, the joy of the rainstorm clearing from her face. “I thought you’d be excited to get up and out. Especially since you’ve been cooped up here alone for the last day and a half.” 

She noted with a light flush of amusement the slapdash knot he’d managed to tie in his hair with one usable hand. His cheeks were blazing beneath the stubble and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she pressed, earnestly concerned for his wellbeing. When he didn't respond immediately, she added, “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

He bit his lips while he thought of a good excuse.

"I’m happy to see you, Rey, I swear, but…” He sighed. “You know how it can get hot in here without a breeze?"

He met her eyes briefly to make sure she was following his rationalization, and then he looked away, knowing that no matter what he said, it was not going to end well for him.

He shifted the blanket slightly to reveal his bare hip.

"Well, you don't want your pure Jedi eyes to be corrupted, but you also didn't _ knock _ ."

Rey’s eyes went extremely wide and she could feel her face igniting with embarrassment.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to squeak out.

"No, I wasn't doing...that," he added hastily. "With my shoulder wrapped up I was just overheating, so I..." He trailed off, loosening his iron grip on the blanket.

Though the sun had been covered by foreboding clouds for past day, a prelude to the current storm, the heat seemed to linger in the cabin, trapped by the wood planks as if it were a feral animal, forced to share a cage with the poor, unassuming Ben. It lashed out with stifling warmth that seemed to ooze out of the walls, out of the air itself. Ben could barely remember the last time he had been outside for this long, but even masked and dressed in layers of black, he couldn’t remember anywhere in the galaxy being this suffocating before. The humidity was oppressive, as if he were swimming where he lay. 

He had tried to fall asleep again not long after Rey left the previous day for lack of better things to do, but as he laid back down, his heart filled with a less oppressive warmth. The dreadful thoughts of his mother were easily replaced by renewed adoration for the woman who had saved his life, who had believed in him, and his eager thoughts of her couldn’t stop flowing and falling into one another. 

When the possibility of  _ her _ finally eased out of his mind enough for him to settle back into a restful state, he found another irritating distraction. He heard the squawking avians, the chirping insects, the rustling of leaves: despite the distance of the noises, it formed a horrid cacophony for someone so removed from nature, from sound not produced by a machine. He tried to tune into the Force for some blessed silence, but he was fooling himself. This strange planet would not allow for silence, but just echoes and echoes, ghosts and dreams from all living things past and present thrown back to him. Too much noise, even in his own head. He thought of his mother again. How easily she could find him. End him.

And on top of it all was the heat.

He gave up on the blanket early in the morning, throwing it aside haphazardly as the sweat pooled on his chest and in his splint, but that provided minimal relief. He felt like he himself would be forming a new lake before Rey returned. He considered for a moment that he did have an infection and this must have been some fever, but the notion passed when he ventured a hand out through the hole in the wall of the cabin. It was cooler out there.   
  
The last thing he wanted was more physical discomfort, and with his bulky, constricting splint and the tight bandages that bound his arm to his chest, he knew there was little he could do for relief. He found Rey’s hair tie discarded on the ground from the night before and carefully managed to remove the hair caked against his neck.

Using his good hand and the last shred of his patience, he had cracked open Rey’s journal, and, flipping past the accusatory tally marks, tried to write. He failed repeatedly.

The late afternoon failed to offer relief, but he couldn’t do anything more than wait for Rey’s return. Hopefully she was honest about not minding odors.

Evening came, and he waited. He tried to fight sleep hoping for her to arrive. He dozed off several times, awakening to the empty cabin and the silence of her absence. He hoped he would wake to find her tapping away at a datapad, intoxicated and loving and honest with him. After several failed attempts to see her, he gave up. 

In the morning, the heat returned, but Rey did not. Frustrated and sweltering, Ben painstakingly removed the only clothing he could. The sense of control was exhilarating, but it wasn’t enough to cool him.

He felt the cloud break above him, and the relief came with it.

Too much relief. It came pouring in through a previously unnoticed hole in the ceiling. He tossed the journal as far away from the leak as he could manage, and dragged himself away from the mud puddle forming in corner. He tried to find something, anything, in the cabin to patch 

the hole, at least until Rey returned, though he realized that would likely be once the planet dried. The only things he could find were used ration wrappers, and they were too flimsy to be much good in the downpour. After a few attempts to stop the rain, he gave up, and tried to wash his only clothing in the water trickling along the wall.

That was the precise moment Rey had barged in.

He looked away. He was comfortable with his body, but here he was, too weak to stand on his own and absolutely exposed. He tried to be cavalier about it. He slumped against the wall.

"I am definitely ready for that bath, I guess."

There was really nothing for it; Rey laughed. The situation was so ridiculous, so absurd, so completely improbable. Even if she wanted to tell her friends what she really got up to out in the woods every day, she doubted they would believe her if she did.

Her laughter had relaxed him; he let himself smile at her infectious joy.

Giggling weakly, she approached him again and reached for the end of the bandage wrapped around his shoulders. He wasn’t kidding about the heat, which was radiating off of him enough to make Rey sweat herself.

“You know, I have seen naked men before,” she said sheepishly as the worked. “It’s just anatomy.”

"Oh?" His eyebrows raised; this was not just an idle remark. "And yet you cling so hard to your Jedi purity."

He released his grip on the blanket, certain that his own purity would be maintained. He flexed his newly freed right hand, feeling Rey's gentle hands again leaving fleeting caresses against his skin.

She shrugged, focused on her task of liberating his bound arm, winding the wide bandage into a neat bundle.

“Well...” she demurred, “in my mind, the men I saw were just...bodies. I didn’t know them, they didn’t know me, there wasn’t anything sexual about it.” She winked. “They weren’t trying to corrupt me.”

She set the bundle aside, and took his right hand in hers, helping him extend and flex his stiff wrist with gentle pressure and firm hands, her black ribbon passing between them.

“Besides,” she said blandly, “modesty is a relatively new concept for me. No one really gave a shit on Jakku.”

"Well, that's better than the alternative I suppose," he said, trying to be nonchalant about the fact she had obviously seen more naked men than he had seen naked women. And, with the exception of a few First Order medical officers, no women had seen him naked in his adult life.

"I was afraid you were going to tell me the Resistance was some sort of lawless nudist paradise."

Rey snorted.

“Oh Force, do  _ not _ put that image in my head,” she snickered.

Then she paused, coloring lightly.

“Alright, let me at that leg,” she mumbled.

"Going right for it, then, Miss Innocent Jedi?" he asked, chuckling. He tried to block out the thought that teased him: maybe these nude strangers Rey had alluded to had likewise seen her naked. Not that he hadn't thought of what that would look like, of course, but he couldn't entertain those sorts of thoughts around her now. Any sort of arousal would be obvious in these circumstances; he hadn't forgotten that there was one more way for him to be truly exposed to her, and it would be an easy reveal.

He could have offered to put his underwear back on; it had taken a while to slip it off with the splint on his leg, but he was sure getting it back on wouldn't be too time consuming. However, she gave no indication that she was going to shy away from him, and he shifted the blanket off his left leg, making sure to keep it bunched appropriately around his hips so it covered his groin.

"I have to admit, I was getting worried about you. I wasn’t sure when to expect you back, especially with the storm coming," he said, trying to ease some of the embarrassment that crept at the corners of his mind and his cheeks and neck.

She grinned as she started loosening the bottom-most strap on his splint.

“Brass put everyone on double duty before the rain hit. They delayed any outdoor work until the storm passed,” she said. “I was elbow deep in busted speeders today.”

She sighed contentedly as she moved up his leg.

“But honestly, I could stay out in the rain and fix speeders all day.”

She finished with the straps and pulled the rest of the splint off. The bruising had gone down significantly.

“How’s that?” she asked, looking up at him.

He had watched her as she spoke, admiring the intensity in which she had minded his leg. He almost forgot about his other condition as he listened and watched.

The bacta patches, while noticeably less effective than full bacta submersion, had certainly helped speed the healing process. He could still remember the pain in his leg from the crash, and though the bone hadn't knit itself back together completely, the progress was impressive.

"Still sore. Definitely tender but not completely useless," he replied thoughtfully. The dark bruising covering his skin on his thigh told a much more graphic picture, but he knew he was better off than if he had been left to heal on its own.

"I'm glad I'm more interesting to fix than speeders," he muttered.

She smirked up at him.

"Oh, infinitely more interesting," she said flirtatiously.   
  
A recent memory pulled into focus, and he found himself looking shamefully back at his lap.   
  
“I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day,” he said softly. “I accused you of not being clinical because you asked a question about one of my injuries. I'm not ashamed of my body, Rey. Not as a matter of modesty.”   
  
He looked up, trying to meet her gaze. “You have already seen the parts of me I’m most embarrassed about."

She frowned incredulously.

"What could you possibly have to be embarrassed about?" she mumbled absently. "You're built like a god..."

She stopped, her own embarrassment rising in her face like heat stroke.

"Kriffing hells, I said that out loud, didn't I..."

He threw his head back and laughed, despite how much pain he caused himself in the process. His laughter subsided once the pain in his sides became too much, and he was left with a large, toothy grin.

"I'm not often subjected to appreciative audiences, so I will take it," he said, a small glimmer of pride in his tone. "But you hit a nerve. You found the things I’m most ashamed of.”

Without warning, his left hand reached over to grab hers. Holding it gently, loosely in his much larger hand, he guided it to a small gnarled mark on his left shoulder, where her lightsaber had bit into his skin.

"One," he said quietly, letting her hand rest on the scar.

He dropped their hands down to his side, where the mangled mark of his uncle Chewie's bowcaster bolt still remained under newer bruises.

"Two," he whispered. He lingered with their hands on his side, remembering the number of times he had struck it with his fist before the accident to try to clear her from his mind.

He shifted his hand down to her wrist, extending her index finger with his. He reached across his body so her eyes met his as he rested her finger on his cheek.

"And three," he said, letting her finger wander down his jaw and onto his chest.

"You witnessed all three of these being made. My greatest failures are etched on my skin. I can hide them from some people, but I can't hide them from you," he said softly. "You will always know my weaknesses."

Rey’s heart was hammering in her chest, the air chilled against her damp skin. He was so warm in comparison. His giant hand encircled her wrist like a manacle of fire. The scar beneath her fingertips burned, a vein of iron. 

With a quiet breath, she laid her forehead against his shoulder, her fingers curling down to touch his hand.

“Is that such a terrible thing?” she whispered.

She felt a deep chuckle rumble through him. His Force signature was no longer the angry, prickling fire it had been days before; it was a somber lull, a cool stream flowing out to sea.

“Only if you use them,” he said, grinning. “And you are clever enough to know how, that’s for sure.”

Her face burned. 

“You think I’m clever?” she said quietly, a pleased tone in her voice.

“You have outwitted me half a dozen times by now. Probably more. I’ve lost count,” he smirked. “I wouldn’t still be alive if you weren’t. Though you are still letting me live, so I guess I’ll have to forgive that particular error in judgment.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back on her haunches, assessing how to get Ben's giant body from point A to point B. It would definitely be a challenge.

"Okay, then, since I’m so terribly clever," she exhaled, "we've got to get you on your feet, er, foot. You can lean on me to get outside and I'll find a spot for you to prop up against. So, first things first--" She reached her hand out for him to take. "--up you go."

Her eyes briefly flickered to the blanket bunched around his hips and she pinked.

"I'll keep my innocent eyes up."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"So this is going to be a real bath, then," he stated, understanding that all opportunities to dress himself again were no longer available. "Somehow I knew you'd be the one corrupting me."

She rolled her eyes again, fearing that he might cause them undue strain that day before she could even get his head under the rain. 

He took her hand in both of his, preparing himself to rise, however the much smaller woman expected to make it happen, until an idea occurred to him.

"You fight with a staff, right? Do you have one with you?"

"Oh! Yeah! Hold on," she said before dashing back out into the rain to liberate her staff from her speeder. The rain was still pouring full force with no sign of stopping.

She ducked back in, freshly drenched, her gray shirt clinging to her body as she chuckled breathlessly. With a twirl, she brandished the weapon, holding one end out to Ben.

"I'm surprised you remembered," she said softly. "You've never really been on the receiving end of this old thing."

Intentionally ignoring the tightness of Rey’s top, he called the staff neatly into his hand, and examined it.

"No, but we've played in each other's minds enough," he shrugged his uneven shoulders. "I saw it a long time ago. It's very special to you, right? This was your only defense."

He looked at the leak next to him, struggling for the kindest words.

"Back before you had rainstorms."

She smiled fondly.

“Yeah, we’ve been through a lot together, that staff and I,” she said. “Back when I was commanding sandstorms instead.” She shuddered. “The rain’s definitely an improvement.”

She peered up at the leak in the roof. It was small, but in this kind of downpour, a little leak went a long way.

“I’ll see what I can do about fixing that once we’ve gotten you settled again,” she said. “I’ll move your bed in the meantime.”

"You're too kind," he said, giving her a small smile. "What's first?"

“Can you get your good leg under you?” she wondered. “If you can pull yourself up the staff with your left arm, I can help brace your torso.”

Gripping the staff tightly in his left hand, he braced it on the ground next to him, and curled his right leg in towards his chest. He let his right arm rest on his stomach, and he sat up.

"Ready," he said, and he exhaled sharply.

"You're going to see what you're going to see," he muttered, partly to himself.

He looked at her. "If I corrupt you with my dazzling looks, well, then I guess I'm not just another body to you."

Her expression was unreadable as she took her place behind him, her hands firm under his ribs.

"You've never been just a body to me, Ben," she whispered faintly, barely audible. His breath caught in his throat at her hands on him, her heat radiating onto his bare skin.

She was quiet for a moment, letting him acclimate to the new position, feeling his muscles tensing under her hands.

"Don't rush it," she said, "take as much time as you need. Ready? One, two...three."

He took a deep breath, preparing himself. Shifting his weight to the ball of his right foot, he straightened his left leg, locking his knee as tight as possible without causing shocks of pain. The fingers on his right hand gripped her hand on his side.

Closing his eyes, he pushed himself up, slowly rising for the first time in days. His injuries found new ways of causing him pain as he shifted, and he let out feral growls of agony as he rose.

Around them, objects in the cabin began to rise by the Force.

"Easy, love," Rey murmured behind him. "I've got you. You're doing great."

His pained vocalizations clenched in her throat. Stars, what if this was a terrible idea and his wounds took even longer to heal now? What if all this pain wasn't worth it in the end? Shoving her insecurities down with a firm hand, Rey redoubled her focus on him, guiding him up.

With a final yowl of torment and the thunk of objects falling to the ground, Ben stood in the tiny cabin, his head just barely missing the ceiling.

After he caught his breath, he looked Rey in the eyes, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Now what?"

She beamed up at him, her face radiant in the face of this little triumph.

"Kriff, I almost forgot how tall you are," she said fondly. It was a lie; she would never forget the way that he towered over her, a protective shadow encircling her in his wings. The pain seemed to twist into a more tender expression; the closest he could manage to a smile.

"Alright, now put your left arm around my shoulders. I'm going to try to take as much pressure off your bad leg as possible and I’ll take the staff out for you."

She looped her arm around his waist and took a firm grip on him, calling her staff to her free hand with a flick of her fingers. She looked up at him with determined eyes and a hard set to her jaw.

"Go ahead and lean on me as much as you need to," she said sternly. "I'm a lot stronger than I look and I don't want you taking us both down because you're concerned about putting strain on me."

Her face softened again. "I'm so proud of you, Ben. You're doing amazing."

His eyes met hers, and his mouth twisted into a pained grin.

"You are excellent at managing patients, I hope you know that," he said, before taking another long breath.

It seemed now that standing was the easy part.

Keeping his left leg locked firmly, he gave a little hop with his right. The bounce vibrated through his broken body, and he hissed in pain, leaning back on Rey for support. As she promised, she didn't buckle under his weight, but slowly moved with him. Bit by agonizing bit they made it across the cabin to the door. Ben paused to rest.

She rubbed his back soothingly, her hand slipping over sweaty muscles.

"Almost outside, we're so close," she encouraged, her body practically thrumming with pride. "Come on, you've got this, just a little more and you can sit down."

"You have no idea," he panted. "How...good...sitting sounds...right now."

Together, they hobbled over to the threshold of the little cabin, and for the first time, Ben was able to truly visualize the area in which he had been held for what felt like weeks. He was surprised to find this area of the forest was only moderately dense, but he could understand why Rey was especially enamored with this planet; everything he could see surrounding them in all directions was green. Her favorite.

Another couple of hops, and Ben's toes felt squishy mud beneath them. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation after days of nothing but heat and pain.

"Where to?"

Rey's eyes glinted and she raised her free hand to one of the large boulders just off the property's boundary. The rock floated toward them, weightless thanks to her control of the Force, and settled with a squelch just beyond the overhang of the roof. It was big enough for Ben to sit comfortably on it and the layer of moss on the top would add extra cushioning.

She grinned up at him. "Lifting rocks, right?"

He let out a pained snort, the closest he could manage to a laugh, given the aches that were consuming him.

"I guess that's impressive. For a Jedi, anyway," he said slyly.

With Rey's assistance, he hobbled out from under the overhang, splashing mud on his bare, bruised legs, and settled onto the  rock, grunting with the effort. Once seated with his broken leg outstretched, his hands found their way to his lap, trying to preserve his remaining shred of modesty, fat drops of rain coating his skin.

When he had settled, his back slumped forward as far as he dared but as straight he could before the pain set in, he closed his eyes, raised his head, and let the downpour cover him, scattering the buzzing pain in his limbs.

He knew he could never love the rain with the same devotion or fascination as Rey, but he certainly appreciated its cleansing effects now. It clung to him, every inch of him, coating his dark body hair against his pale skin. It rinsed off the heat of the past few days, the remaining bacta residue, the dust, the dirt. The years. So many years.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt the rain on his bare face: he had worn the mask for so long, and even with his new half-mask, he barely spent any time on planets anymore. For the past several months he woke in his quarters on one Star Destroyer, only to board a command shuttle to take him to another First Order or allied ship. If he left the Star Destroyer at all.

Now, he had no Star Destroyer. No TIE Fighter. No mask. No lightsaber. He had nothing. He wore nothing. All he had in this galaxy was this broken body, a fractured mind, and a splintered soul.

But he listened to the raindrops bouncing off the millions of leaves around him, felt the serenity of the Force flowing through the forest, savored the gentle kiss of a droplet of water running down his cheek and along his scar, he was grateful for the damaged pieces he had been left.

He was glad he had survived the crash, for whatever pain came before this moment, and whatever pain would come after. This moment, a sacred moment of beauty in a life of control, of rules, of fear and hate, was so blissful, so cleansing, that he even let a small smile escape and rest on his cheeks.

For that moment, he loved himself. He loved Ben Solo for his sorrow, his tender heart. He loved Kylo Ren for his passion, his strength. He had nothing but himself, and that was enough.

He let himself be at peace, and let his heart adore the miserable mess that he was.

Rey watched him intently, searching for any signs of discomfort or trauma. What she found was serenity, quiet and unassuming, seeping out from under the grime of too many years of torment, washed away by the rain. Even in sleep, she had never seen him so peaceful. Her heart clenched to see this beautiful, broken man whole again, even if only for the time being. She hoped that this brief reprieve would only strengthen the Light within him against future attacks from the Darkness.

As the rain began to soak her through, she slowly began to unwind the wraps from around her arms, lest they, too, mildew too quickly. The rain slipped in ticklish trails down the exposed skin, sensitive and soft from years of protective coverings. She folded them and tucked them in the doorway of the cabin. Her cuff remained, concealing the red scrap on her wrist.

She stood in front of him, smiling down at his serene expression. She was loathe to say anything to disturb this hard-won respite, so she merely touched his shoulder with a gentle hand, indicating her proximity so as not to startle him. He did not flinch this time. 

Her abandoned hair tie fell from his hair with a little tug, and she slipped it in her wrist. From her pocket, she withdrew the bar of soap, already sudsing in the drenching downpour, and lathered up her hands. She dug her soapy fingers into the inky locks dripping with rainwater and started scrubbing, carding through tangles and snags with gentle patience and massaging deep into his scalp. The snarled, dirty curls quickly grew silken and soft as she danced her hands through them. She savored the soft pinpricks of the roots of each hair against her fingertips, feeling the curves of his skull and grazing his temples, his neck, his ears as she massaged the soap in deeper. He relaxed himself completely into her touch.

He eventually opened one eye, turning his head slowly to gaze at her. He studied her as she worked.

"You're good at that," he purred, closing his eye again.

"Thank you," she replied, smiling. "I'm curious, how'd you manage to tie your hair up one-handed?"

He smirked, tilting his sudsy head as if giving her a disbelieving glance.

"All the things you could ask me and that's all you want to know?"

He paused, and then Rey felt the hair tie on her wrist snap gently.

"Occasional abuses of the Force are necessary in my condition," he said.

She giggled. "Fair enough."

She was quiet for a moment as she continued her ministrations, the heavy raindrops a pulse between the two of them.

"What would you rather I ask you about?" she said coyly. "Since there are apparently so many avenues of conversation we could go down."

"'How are you, despite your best efforts, not dead right now?'" he said, mimicking her voice, his smile growing. "I'm genuinely surprised you haven't asked that one. But more apt for this situation is probably 'How the kriff did you make it out here without doubling over or passing out in pain?'"

Again, he gave his head a shake as if he were looking at her, but his eyes remained shut as the soapy water began to trickle down his face.

"If you have an answer to that one, I'd love to hear it, because I don't."

She shrugged nonchalantly, chuckling at his imitation of her.

"Honestly, I just assumed you were too stubborn to die, so I didn't bother to ask," she quipped. "As for the second one, I think you were just trying to impress me with your inhuman pain threshold."

She dragged her hand back over his hairline, scraping the lather back from his forehead.

"Tilt your head back," she instructed quietly.

He tipped his head, lips parted as if he were drinking in the rain water.

"Well, I’m definitely stubborn, but are you impressed by my inhuman pain threshold?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Extremely."

She called an old bucket that she’d set aside earlier to her with the Force and scooped up a handful of water over his head to aid in rinsing out the soap, his hair falling against his back in midnight black tendrils. After a few passes, his hair was finally clean and untangled, and she was able to rake her fingers through it as if it were the water itself. She crossed around the rock to stand in front of him again, her hand closed over the plastisteel razor in her pocket.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

Tilting his head forward, he opened his eyes slowly, eyelashes stuck together with water.

"Well, given that I am currently naked and defenseless in the middle of a storm in a strange forest, I'd have to say that I trust you a lot right now."

“Fantastic.” She pulled the razor out of her pocket with a wry expression. “Because you’re looking awfully scruffy.”

He had the distinct feeling that his mother had said the exact same thing to his father a number of times in childhood. But in those instances, his mother hadn't been brandishing a blade. He was almost certain of it.

He eyed the razor suspiciously.

"Okay, well, now that we have context, I have to say 'I trust you, but gently question your experience.'"

She stuck the end of the razor between her teeth as she stepped between his knees, rubbing some soap between her hands into a lather. She shrugged nervously.

“It’ll be fine!” she bit out around the impediment in her mouth.

She ran her soapy hands over the stubble on his face; it scratched pleasurably against her palms through the lather. It slowed her movements, drew her eyes to his. She pulled her hands away, letting the remaining bubbles sluice off her fingers in the rain. Removing the razor from between her lips, she gently took his chin in her other hand, angling his cheekbone toward her.

“I...I don’t really know where to start,” she murmured.

"Well, that's not exactly reassuring," he said, tilting his head back so he looked her straight on.

"I can do this myself, but I’d need a mirror, and I don't think that would work in this weather," he said.

He paused for a moment before sitting up straighter and looking into her eyes.

"I can, however, guide you," he said, suddenly very severe. "Don't look away. Just focus. Can you do that?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes locked on his. She could feel the heat rising in his skin.

He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. Bringing his good hand up, he gently placed the blade against his left cheek.

"Wait until you feel it, okay?" he asked. “And uh...yeah, you might have to forgive the memory I’m about to show you…It’s been a while since I’ve used a razor like that and, well…” He shrugged his good shoulder.    
  
“It’s not like I have many fond memories of shaving.” He paused, letting a small, dreamy smile escape. “In fact, this might become my first fond memory of shaving, if I survive it.”

Resting his right elbow on his bent leg, he gently placed a hand on her thigh, guiding her in closer to him.  His left hand briefly brushed against her hip before snaking under the soaked fabric of her shirt. He placed his palm flat on her lower back, and with a rush of the Force, he welcomed her back into a memory.

 

_ Ben Solo, a gangly teenager of no more than 15 or 16 years old, stood in front of a mirror. His ears, peeking out from his mop of dark hair, were burning a deep crimson. _

_ He quickly slammed the door with the Force and locked it, pressing his back against it for support. There was a loud, demanding knock, following by a few cruel laughs. _

_ "Fix your patchy facial pubes, freak," a boy's voice shouted from beyond the washroom. _

_ "What a kriffing weirdo," a second voice added. A chorus of laughter floated in from the hall. _

_ The other boys pounded on the door, the force of it sending shockwaves through young Ben’s body. Bars of soap and towels began to jerk into the air. _

_ “Kriff off!” he shouted, his cheeks flushing deeper as his voice cracked. _

_ He could still hear the laughter through the door, even more raucous than before. _

_ He turned on the water and let it run to drown out further insults. The hatred within him roiled. The Darkness started to gnaw at the corners of his mind. whispering to him bitter revenge fantasies. He took a deep breath, scattering the shadows. The floating objects began to sink back to their original places. After a few more fists pounded against the door and more insults tried to squeeze in through the door, the boys outside moved along. When all was silent, Ben sighed with relief. _

_ He leaned in close to the mirror, now cracked and jagged, inspecting his jaw. There was no disguising the patches of black curls dotting his lip and chin. He had been so excited to finally have his first substantial facial hair growth, but his peers had quickly used this moment as another occasion for torment. As if they needed a reason. _

_ He rubbed the soap around his mouth and along his jawline. So that look was out of the question for now. _

_ He held his young face in his too-large hands and tilted his jaw. Picking up a plastisteel razor, he began to gently drag it against the patches of dark stubble. He took extra care to go slow on his upper lip, moving in short vertical strokes. _

_ Young as he was, he was already skilled at shaving, and he left no cuts on his pale face. _

_ But as he patted the water off his face with a washcloth, it was hard to miss the red around his eyes. _

 

Those same eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Rey when the vision broke.

"You felt that, right?"

She nodded, exhaling slowly as the feeling of old memories slipped into her muscles and took root. She made her first stroke, smiling breathlessly at the clean skin she'd uncovered. Her grip on his chin had slackened a bit, with her hand resting lightly on his throat, she could feel his pulse racing beneath her fingertips. She worked quietly and diligently, wiping the blade periodically on the leg of her jumpsuit. She was careful to take her time around the still-healing cut on his upper lip. Sometimes the silk-soft skin of her inner arm brushed his elbow where it still rested on her hip, his hand pressing against the small of her back, blazing hot on her rain-cooled skin.

A gentle nudge of her fingers tilted his head so she could reach the other side. She finished quickly, setting the razor back in her pocket. She wiped the excess soap from his face with her fingers, softly dragging them across his now smooth skin. She held his face in her hands, eyes darting over his skin, searching out any missed spots.

"For what it's worth," she said softly, nearly drowned out by the rain, "I don't think you're a freak."

She paused. "I think if I had been there back then, I would've liked to be your friend."

He quirked a small smile, but his eyes were joyless. He tried to conceal the shame the memory held.

"You wouldn't have. I was miserable. Angry. Destructive. Still am, but now those are my personality traits, not idiosyncrasies that bullies latch on to for fun," he said. "I think I wanted a beard to look older. Maybe I was trying to get everyone to believe I was more mature than I was, like my uncle."

His fingers tapped nervously against her back.

"Then they would stop hating me for being...whatever I was."

He forced out a laugh. "They didn't buy it for a second, by the way. I just became the weird kid with weird facial hair. I can’t grow a beard. They saw right through me. They knew what I was before I did."

She lifted his face up to look at her.

"I still don't think you're a freak," she said sincerely. "Angry and destructive, sure. But not a freak. Just a human in pain." She smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. "Too much pain for a person to bear."

His eyes did not meet hers, though his heart leapt at her touch.

"You don't have to hold it, though, you know that, right?" he said softly, his fingers tracing tiny circles into the dip of her spine. "I don't want to keep unloading more pain on you, and I don't want you thinking you have to help me carry it."

He shrugged his good shoulder. "That's all in the past. It doesn't matter what anyone thought of me. Not them, not Snoke."

He looked at her again. "Stop me if we've had this conversation before."

She gave a wry half-smile. "We only keep having it because we're both too stubborn to let it die."

She ran her fingers through his wet hair again, darkened to almost blue-black in the deepening half-darkness as thunder growled overhead. The storm was about to be right on top of them. She eyed the sky with an annoyed sigh, not wanting to leave the warmth of his arm around her.

"And as much as I'd love to have it again, we need to finish up and get back inside," she said, firm but gentle in her reasoning. "I love thunderstorms but you're tall enough to attract lightning from the sky and I don't want to be attached to you when that happens."

As she withdrew her hands, her nail pulled a strand of his dark hair loose from where she had slicked it back against his scalp, leaving one dark lock dangling in front of his eyes.

"Oh come on, I'm far from the tallest thing in this forest," he said, sliding his hand higher up her back, enjoying the softness of her skin, the comfort of her, even as he fought to clear his head of painful memories that threatened to bring him back to the dark, bitter headspace he had just escaped. He tried to feel again for the peace he had felt just moments prior, but he found it harder to grasp now.

There was just...Rey.

He released her leg and returned his hand to his lap.

"But if you're so certain I'm that much of a lightning rod, then maybe you should take cover. I can handle the rest of my bath alone."

She immediately missed the warmth of his hand through the heavy fabric of her jumpsuit but forced herself to let her hands drop to her sides. She handed over the bar of soap with an unreadable expression.

"I'll see if I can do something about the leak," she mumbled. "Just give a shout if you need me."

She reluctantly began to disentangle herself from him.

His hand slipped out from under the hem of her grey undershirt, but he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his face and planting a gentle kiss along her knuckles.

"Thank you, Rey," he said, his voice muted by a rumble of thunder overhead.

She smiled down at him, her eyes soft and fathomless in the growing darkness. She squeezed his hand.

"You're welcome, Ben."

As she began to head back towards the cabin, she gave Ben a gentle squeeze on his good shoulder, her hand pressing against the small round scar.

Again, Ben was alone in a torrent of rain, and he found the tranquility returning to him.

He knew he had a lot to figure out about himself, but he liked the fact that he wasn't uncovering it alone.

He felt for Rey in the cabin behind him as he worked the soap into a lather and began to scrub small circles wherever his good arm could reach.

She was busy digging into her pack, he could tell, but he just felt the radiance of her presence, and felt warm despite the chill of the rain pressing down on him. It was a pleasant warmth this time, and he welcomed it.

She had saved his life. She had already spared it a number of times when she could have left him for dead.

She really believed there was something worth caring about in the twisted young boy he had showed her. She believed there was something worthwhile in him still. He gazed ahead at the forest around him, registering the subtle movements of small creatures scurrying for shelter from the rain, the rush of worms coming out of the soil.

Rey had seen beauty here before he had thought to look for it. She had seen beauty in him.

He passed the soap to his right hand so it could begin scrubbing circles in its limited range. He eyed the black ribbon on his wrist.

She believed he could keep his promise, and in this moment, he wanted nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the mantras the Lady and I have had while writing this is "Write what you knowwww," said very loudly and with a slight twinge of sarcasm.
> 
> Over a decade ago, I broke my right collarbone. I spent my time healing by reading the novel _Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader_ and removing my sling to get into mischief.
> 
> Write what you knowwww.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will you let me help?" he asked. "Just this once?"

_O, You should not rest_  
_Between the elements of air and earth,_  
_But you should pity me!_

Twelfth Night, I.V

* * *

 

Inside the cabin, Rey armed herself with her little toolkit, knowing she'd have to work quickly with the storm worsening. She remembered to shove Ben's pallet over to the dry side of the room; thankfully the leak hadn't gotten the old mattress wet. After assessing the dripping with a critical eye, she darted back out to find a way up to the roof. As she came out, she caught a glimpse of her charge, diligently running the bar of soap over pale muscles.

She shook her head to clear it, strands of soaking wet hair sticking to her face. _Roof, right._ Calculating her path, Rey managed to climb up to the roof with relative ease, scrambling up the slope to the source of the leak. A small patch of shingles had been scraped off at some point; thankfully, an easy fix. She peered back down at ground, searching for a piece of wood or metal that would serve as a temporary fix, when she noticed Ben's eyes on her.

"You're afraid of me being a lightning rod, and yet you're standing on a roof," he called out to her. "I was going to ask if you were okay, but it's clear there's something missing in your head."

He liked the way she climbed. He liked how she looked dripping wet. It reminded him of how she looked once when the Force had first bridged them; she had sought him out, desperate for company, still soaked after an encounter with the Dark Side in a strange cave. She seemed so scared then, so vulnerable. Now she was bold, fearless, the eye of the storm. He didn’t know which Rey he adored more.

She rolled her eyes and reached out for the loose piece of panelling on the side of her speeder. She tugged it, and it shook with a metallic groan then flew at her, overeager in her distraction, and nearly knocked her off her perch, clipping her side and knocking a gust of air out of her before settling on the roof behind her.

"Ah, sithspit," she hissed, sinking down to her knees. That was going to bruise.

"Rey?" he called, worry in his voice. He could no longer glimpse her on the roof. "What happened? Please, tell me you're alright."

Without another thought he released the soap he had been holding and reached out for the staff. It flew into his hand in the next second, and he buried an end of it into the mud to try to get to his feet. Foot. There was no putting weight on his unbound left leg at all, so he used the staff to support his left side.

He managed to scramble to a standing position and pivot so he could face Rey. She was doubled over.

Ignoring the surge of agony in his left leg, he attempted to hobble the short distance to the cabin. When he had moved a bit, he decided to pull the blanket to him as well, sending it flying through the open doorway and into the rain. He wrapped it around his waist, holding it in place with his right hand.

"Rey?"

"I'm fine!" she shouted back, still doubled over and rubbing the sore spot. "Overshot the distance a bit."

Then she noticed him standing, peering up at her.

"What in R'iia's name do you think you're doing, Ben Solo?!" she bellowed. "You sit your ass back down this instant or I'll do it for you!"

"No!" he shouted back over the hammering downpour. "You're hurt. I'm not going to let you get injured looking after me."

He took another hop-step forward.

"Besides, I'm not sure I can sit down without help so I'm here until I know you are alright."

She groaned, hastily shoving the panel over the leak. She made a controlled descent down the slope of the roof, flinching as a crash of thunder boomed overhead. With sure, quick movements, and an involuntarily wince as she stretched her bruising ribs, she scampered down the side beams and landed solidly with a squelch in the mud.

"There!" she yelled petulantly as she approached him. "I'm okay, nothing to worry about! Now let's get inside, I'm pretty sure you're about as clean as you're going to get, given the situation."

He tried to stand tall, leaning hard against the staff as she faced him. He panted from the strain, but he just watched her, dark eyes fearful.

Her face softened and she came up beside him, locking her right arm around his waist.

“Ben, I’m alright,” she said. “If you want to worry about me, you can do that once we’re inside, okay?”

He nodded, water dripping in rivulets on his face. His left hand grabbed hers, and he pivoted to the door, hissing as he did so. His side jostling up against her fresh injury sent a sting through her nerves, but she pushed down on the pain to keep him upright. After a few strained steps, the two crossed through the doorway. Stumbling in the small space, Ben paused at the edge of the pallet. He seemed to blanch.

"I can do this myself," he said quietly.

“Come on, I’m right here, let me help you,” she insisted. “Controlled descent, right?”

He laughed. "Are you just going to drop me with the Force?"

“No!” She sounded indignant despite her grin. “I’m going to lower you gently with the Force.”

He slowly pivoted, and sent the staff to rest against the wall. Clutching the blanket in front of his waist, he let himself relax.

"Go ahead then," he said.

Rey exhaled slowly as her eyes slid shut, breathing out the racing in her heart, shiver of cool air on wet skin, and the dull throbbing on her ribs. She needed to focus to do this and Ben's glistening, half-naked body was not helping her concentration.

Lifting rocks was one thing; during her self-guided training sessions, she'd tried moving other things, even people if she could get Finn to agree to stand still for long enough. Inanimate objects were easier to manipulate than people, like a still pond, easy to wade through. Life forms had a current around them that made manipulation more challenging, a river of latent power. Force-sensitives, however, were the equivalent of an ocean, in constant flux and deep with currents of energy.

She reached out to Ben, feeling the buzzing threads surrounding him, with him pulsing at the center, a sentient form of heat and light and darkness. She let her fingers tangle in the filaments of shimmering energy as she wove a safety net behind him. The sensation sent tingles up her arm, raising goosebumps as they travelled. With a delicate flex of her fingers and another deep breath, she pushed him backwards, slowly lowering him to the pallet until she heard a soft exhalation from Ben. She opened her eyes and let go, black spots popping in her field of vision as she came back to herself with a few shaky breaths.

"See?" she panted as she plopped down onto the ground beside him. "Controlled descent..."

He pulled the blanket back over him, letting it cover up to his chest, and shot a sleepy smile up at her.

"Now I'm impressed," he said. "Jedi."

He reached his hand toward her side.

"How does it feel?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh so now you're playing doctor?" she said hoarsely. She hissed as his hand made contact with the quickly darkening bruise.

"I'm fine," she insisted, trying to bat his hand away. "Come on, I've got to get you trussed back up. You've been out of the splint for too long already."

She reached for the small pile of medical equipment she'd deposited on the ground.

"I'm going to override you on that one," he said, and he used the Force to tug her back toward him, his good hand lifting the hem of her shirt up to examine the injury.

"I've become very familiar with bruising lately," he said, running his soft fingers against her skin. "And this one is going to hurt."

She grimaced at the touch.

"It's just a bump, nothing to fuss over," she grumbled. "Unlike your broken femur which I would very much like to stabilize again, or your broken clavicle which you have no doubt aggravated with all the touching."

"Touching?" His eyebrows darted up. "What touching have I done that offended you and impeded my healing?"

He released her, and began to run his hand through his wet, slicked-back hair.

"Well that for one thing," she said, indicating his current position.

Then she blushed.

"And don't think I didn't notice you holding onto my leg outside," she said quietly, trying not to sound breathless at the memory of his hand burning into her thigh through the wet fabric.

He bit his lips in frustration. He wasn’t upset that she noticed, but that she resented him for it.

"Now will you let me put you back together?"

"If you insist," he said, dropping his arm to rest at his waist.

He scanned her for a moment.

"You know I can still use my right hand, too; I just have limited range of motion because I can't put weight on my shoulder," he said, flexing his fingers in demonstration. "I'm not pushing myself more than I can handle."

Rey shot him a disapproving look as she worked quickly to get his splint ready. Her blush intensifying, she rubbed the blanket over his leg to dry it off, her breath coming quick and fast as her hands ran over thick muscle. She tried to avoid putting pressure on the break site, but she still winced at his pained exhalation when she did. The last time she had done this, he'd been unconscious and touching him this way had been purely out of necessity.

Now, things had changed, namely his burning eyes on her as she worked.

"You know," he said, his tone suddenly testy. "You're not the only one who is allowed to care about people. I appreciate you helping me, but you don't have to suffer around me to...what? Prove a point?"

He glowered at her hand on his leg.

"Do you let your friends help you? Or do you push them away too?"

He softened. "I know I hurt you, but I want to know you’re okay. You can be vulnerable, Rey."

She tensed, her hands stilling briefly on the contraption of wood and fabric. She finished with his leg before beckoning him to sit up. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, hers stayed fixed on the bump on his collarbone.

"Please. You've done enough for me. You don't have to pretend to be strong, too," he whispered, pulling himself upright. "This isn't Jakku. If you're wounded, you can get help. I won't re-break anything checking you. I just want to know you're alright, too."

Focusing on the Force, he picked up the abandoned bandage from his wrap earlier and caught it in his good hand. Working carefully with the Force as an extra hand, he wrapped the bandage up his right arm to the elbow and looped the remaining fabric around his arm and neck several times to create a sling.

"I'm not completely helpless, you know," he said, lightning flashing around them.

She shook her head, eyes fixed but unfocused on his shoulder. She was quiet for a while.

Rey thought back to the nights she’d return late to her capsized AT-AT, limping or groaning from a fresh injury, the Darkness curling itself around her and wrapping the dunes surrounding her home in malice. Whenever she would injure herself, be it from taking a nasty fall, another object falling on her, or a rival trying to poach her finds, she would return after sundown, exhausted and in pain and starving, always starving. Her nerves were shot; she would try not to think of the agony of her body, but her senses were still on high alert for every sound, every smallest motion. She would seem defenseless. She had to protect herself, even if she had little strength to do so. It was the law of the desert: fight if you could, die if you couldn’t.

Upon returning home, there was often no comfort to be found, and only occasionally could Rey find relief. And sometimes, relief would be a long time in coming, if she had forgotten to replenish her medical supplies. Usually, she would buy the bandages and salves on the few occasions when she received surplus portions, but more times than not these periods of plenty would be months apart, and competition for parts would be fierce. That meant more injuries, as she would push herself to get whatever scrap she could find in riskier locations.

On those occasions that she would injure herself without the right supplies for treatment, she would try to use whatever she could find to stop the bleeding or reduce the swelling for the night, be it clothes, rope, nets. Anything could be a tourniquet in desperate situations. She would never sleep well, and she would drag herself, hungry, exhausted, and beaten, onto her speeder to Niima Outpost first thing in the morning to barter whatever she could for the supplies she needed. She would then haul herself back to her speeder and collapse into her small hammock, using her last vestiges of energy to attempt to mend herself, the tears making it hard to see where the blood was coming from.

She remembered crying into the darkness, calling for a mother to come running to kiss her sorrows and pain. A father to cradle her in his arms, to hold her close and lift her spirits.

She must have had both of them once. She could still remember.

She marked her injuries as she marked every day: with a tally on the wall and a little more bitterness seeping into her heart.

_Why wouldn’t they come back?_

“I do push them away,” she said softly, barely audible over the rain on the roof. “I’m not used to...other people wanting to help me. I don’t want them to think I’m weak.”

She inhaled slowly.

“I don’t want to give them a reason to leave me behind again.”

She tried to curl into herself but stopped abruptly with a soft cry, the bruise on her ribs protesting to the movement.

He flinched; seeing her in pain ignited his. He felt unbidden emotions enter his voice.

"You're not weak; I can't think of another soul in the galaxy who would have the courage to do what you did for me. And you did nothing to earn what happened to you. Not from your family, and certainly..." He paused, his eyes downcast. "And definitely not from me."

He took her small hand in his.

"You should not assume the weakness of others is an extension of you," he said. "You can be a beacon of strength and still need help. Everyone should strive to be more like you; you shouldn’t feel like you need to diminish yourself for them."

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"Or me."

She looked down at their joined hands, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles. His palm was warm despite the dampness, his touch gentle, his voice soft and earnest.

She unfolded her legs from under her, crossing them instead, and the shift sent another little twinge through her.

“Kriff, that hurts,” she grimaced.

She tried to maneuver the hem of her shirt up to assess the damage, but the twisting only served to exacerbate the pain.

He put hand on top of hers.

"Will you let me help?" he asked. "Just this once?"

His dark eyes drew her gaze like a magnet. _Let me in_ , they said, soft and inviting. _Let me ease your hurts._

She nodded.

He reached up and carefully placed his good hand on the back of her head, feeling her damp hair under his fingers as he pulled her forehead towards him for a quick kiss. He summoned and lit the candledroid and then moved his hand to the hem of her shirt, craning his neck to observe the discoloration as he lifted up a section at a time.

"It’s darkened up quickly, that's for sure," he said. "And here I thought I was good at beating myself up."

She shivered, whether from the air on her wet clothes or his gentle touches, she couldn’t tell. She hissed through her teeth at the sight of her purple flesh.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” she mumbled sheepishly.

Frustrated by the clingy, wet garment, he flicked the hem up with a quick pulse of the Force.

"Well, that's the thing with lifting objects in the Force: if you have to pull them off somewhere or out of something, you have to account for their weight, or else they come flying out at you at unpredictable speeds," he said, his fingertips barely brushing her skin.

"It takes practice to make sure you don’t hit yourself. And it looks like this hit you at an angle. Didn’t break the skin, but maybe you cracked a rib. Nothing a little bacta can't help. It will at least take down the swelling and help some of the pain."

He called her pack to his lap, and began to dig through it.

“The medkit’s the small right hand pocket,” she said.

She crossed her bare arms over her breasts, goosebumps blooming along her skin as she tried to keep warm. When had it gotten so cold?

He watched a shiver cross her body, and he paused, setting the pack aside.

Twisting slowly at the waist so not to strain his own battered torso, he looked at the balled-up cape he used to prop up his clavicle while he slept and placed it on his lap.

He turned back to her and hooked his fingers under the hem of her shirt.

"Let's get you warm. You'll catch your death, and dying because of a chill? That would be really embarrassing for a Jedi," he said, distantly wondering with some revulsion if his mother had once said something similar to him. It all seemed like a lifetime ago.

"You can wrap up in this." The silence grew between them as the revelation dawned that he was trying to convince her, however altruistically, to remove her shirt.

"It's just me," he said softly, beneath a churning boom of thunder.

She laughed breathlessly.

“You say that like I’m afraid of you,” she chattered.

With a few careful tugs of his hand and a little assistance from the Force, he raised the wet garment over her flat belly, and, carefully lifting the arm on her sore side for her, he tugged the shirt over her head and up her arms until it was off.

Her skin had never quite lost its color from the Jakku sun, he thought, catching a glimpse of her bare neck, her own clavicles forming sharp, angular lines. With swift, assured movements, he tore open a new bacta patch with his teeth and positioned it on the worst of her injury. She hissed in relief as the bacta took effect. His thumb tenderly swiped over the patch, sealing the edges down with a gentle touch. She shivered. He turned his face away politely and offered her the cape.

The fabric was warm and dry and smelled like him as she draped it over her thin, bare shoulders.

“I’m not.” Her voice and face were blindingly sincere.

With his good hand, he pulled the cape tighter around her, a gesture that awakened memories of him wrapping the cape over her gown to keep out the chill the morning he gave her back to Bazine.

"Good," he said. "You don't have to be. Not anymore."

She caught his hand in hers before he could pull away, flipping the palm up and tracing the deep lines with her fingertip. A memory jumped between them.

_There was an old scavenger on Jakku who had been like a grandmother to Rey growing up. She taught the little girl about the ancient magicks she had learned over her decades of life. Some of the other scrappers even said that she could read the future in the stars._

_“The stars? Bah!” the crone had scoffed. “Stars are for idiots who can’t see past their own noses. No, little one, the future is here.”_

_She had grabbed Rey’s tiny hand, raw from hard work and not yet calloused, and poked at the faint lines on her palm with one crooked finger._

_“This is where the future lies, little Rey,” she croaked. “In our hands. You understand me, girl? We hold our own futures and we shape our own destinies.”_

_The child nodded vigorously, though not quite understanding the crazy lady’s ramblings. The old woman tugged on a little bun affectionately before returning to her scrubbing._

_Rey didn’t see the crone again._

The memory disintegrated. Rey’s hands, bigger now and roughened by added years of labor, cradled Ben’s giant hand in hers as though it were the most valuable thing in the universe. She leaned down to press a soft kiss in the center of his palm and laid her cheek against it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

 _This is where the future lies._ His thought echoed the old woman as he gazed down his wrist at Rey's gentle expression.

He curled his fingers around her chin and gave her a soft smile.

He wasn't scared or hesitant as he pulled her mouth to his for a kiss, deep and contented.

She didn’t flinch as her eyes slid shut and her hands came up to hold his face, warm and smooth beneath her fingers.

His mouth was soft and hot, just as she remembered in her few kind dreams of Canto Bight. On those nights, he was still her Ben, dressed in his inky black finery, all masks and artifice discarded on a ballroom floor. He would hold her to him, his bare hands hot on her exposed back as he whispered his love against her neck. She would awaken in the morning with tears on her cheeks; they would do nothing to quench the fire he had kindled within her, nor could they wash away the lingering caress of his lips.

This was far better than any dream. He was here, he was real, he was alive...she tentatively let herself hope that he was hers.

She deepened the kiss, parting her lips with a quiet whimper. _Ben..._

Ben almost broke the kiss in shock, but he recovered, sliding his fingers back through the tangles of her wet hair.

Her voice in his mind had been a comfort all those months ago, and he had known when he turned away from her in fear, in pain, that he might never feel the solace of her mind curled around his again.

But he wanted it.

As his eager mouth explored her longing one, a memory passed unbidden between them:

_Kylo Ren, alone on a bridge in a Super Star Destroyer._

_He wore his cloak around him like a shield as he looked through the viewport into the vast galaxy beyond._

_He closed his eyes._

_He tried to remember her voice. He tried to recall the promises she had made to him, to hear her say she wanted him one more time._

_But he couldn't let himself hear it._

_For many nights he tried, his eyes becoming darker, his face becoming more drawn._

_He thought in the dead of night he could lie to himself. He could want her, but he would never let himself have her._

_Sometimes he'd feel her call._

_He'd shut it out again, and realize what a fool he was._

_He couldn't want this. Her._

_She was a distraction. He had the galaxy to run._

The memory broke, and he pulled away from her, panting.

The thread he had severed had reknit itself back together. The relief of her return in his mind shattered him.

 _Cyar'ika_ , his mind cried back to her. _Beloved._

Rey hadn’t realized that she was breathless too, her arms wrapped around him as she pressed open-mouthed kisses into his neck.

 _Yes!_ she gasped. _I’m here, I’m here! Find me! I’ve been waiting for you!_

“I’ve missed you so much,” she breathed between kisses, her fingers running through his hair.

She had nearly drowned once on Ahch-To. This kind of drowning was far more pleasurable. She could drown in him for the rest of her days if it was possible.

He threw his head back, her lips leaving sensuous spots of heat along his throat. Her hands were so cold when they met his skin that she left gooseflesh on his body with every caress, and he couldn't stand for her to stop.

_I never stopped wanting you._

He let his hand wander down to her back, the cape covering the muscular planes of her shoulder blades.

"Even though I was too weak to see you, I never stopped waiting for you," he said, gasping for air. His heart hammered an exhausting rhythm against his chest. He could barely breathe. She was in control of him, and he loved every second of it.

Suddenly she was too hot, shrugging off the cape and twisting herself into his grasp, pulling closer to the heat that was _him_.

Ben. Her Ben.

She was a child of the desert and he was the sun.

“I was...always,” she panted. “You don’t...you don’t have to wait anymore.”

She kissed him hard, pouring every ounce of her need for him into it.

He held her close, feeling his body echo hers. Her wanting. Her heat, so close to his.

His pressed his hand tight against her lower back. There was suddenly more of her to explore, and he was frantic with desire.

The need to be shy was gone.

A thunderclap.

He pulled away, his dilated dark eyes met hers in the soft glow of the candledroid.

"Touch me," he whispered, a command and a plea.

He pulled her in for another kiss.

_I don't care where, and I don't care how much it hurts._

She groaned into his lips. As if possessed, her hands moved of their own accord, her mouth following them to the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, her teeth rasping delicately against his pale skin. Her fingers traced the line of her scar down his face and throat until they met his sling. She squeezed the hand trapped between them and then let her fingers worm beneath the bandages on to his chest as her other hand mirrored the motion.

 _Please, Ben, beloved, please_ , she begged into his mind. _I need you._

He let out a gasp as her hands lighted on his pectoral muscles, a heat radiating through his chest. Her touch was like the lightning overhead, sparking the yearning within him.

His hand rested on the side of her breast band, too lost in her touch to realize where it was going.

He wished he had use of both his arms to hold her, explore her, worship her. He wished he didn't have to twist to meet her at his side, but that he could pull her onto his lap. His broken leg and the blanket separated them, and he uttered a silent curse. His fingers brushed the unbruised side of her ribcage.

 _I am yours_ , he growled. _Brand my broken parts with your mark. They are unworthy, but they belong to you alone._

She pulled away from his neck, gasping for air, eyes glazed and dark in the dim light. She grasped at his face again, fingers fumbling through his hair, over his cheekbones.

"You are not unworthy," she said, her voice husky. "You are mine."

She kissed him deeply, unable to be parted from his mouth for long. She would rather fill her lungs with him than oxygen. Without breaking from him, she tugged his hand away from her side and pressed it into her breast, moaning at the contact.

"And I am yours," she sighed against his lips.

He gasped at the sudden exquisite strangeness of her soft breast beneath his rough hand. He could feel her heart fluttering through his fingertips.

He would have returned her boldness in kind by giving her more purchase on him, but with his stronger arm currently occupied, he had to be a little more inventive.

The Force buzzed around them, full of shared wanting and joy. He returned her hungry kisses with his own, lips parting with a growl.

"Mine," he breathed into her neck. His voice was feral. He left rough kisses along the wiry muscles, feeling her pulse beneath his mouth.

His thumb brushed her nipple, the touch surged through her whole body.

 _You're mine, cyar'ika_ , he thought, hunger in his thoughts. _I'll never let you go again_.

“Ben...” she moaned. She clutched at his neck and shoulders, her body pressed as close to his as physically possible. She longed to be even closer.

“Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben,” she chanted. “Force, I want you so much...”

He pressed his fingers tight into her skin. He wanted to keep her there with him forever.

He felt a sudden mechanical buzzing. He broke from Rey and looked down toward the source. By his knees lay Rey's discarded pack. The commlink was rattling, demanding her attention.

The tented fabric of the blanket around his waist announced that he was likewise seeking her, but he knew her responsibilities would call for her again, taking her away from his wanting embrace.

His thumb still occupied with her breast, he grumbled into her shoulder, "I guess you should take that."

Breathless, pupils blown wide and black as space itself, she turned hazy eyes on her pack. She reached for the commlink, one arm still wound around Ben’s neck as she examined the little device.

It was base, of course. Duty calling.

Without a second thought, she tucked the comm back into the bag and shoved the whole thing to the other side of the cabin with a lazy flick of the wrist.

Her eyes returned to his.

“It can wait,” she murmured.

Seeing the raw want in her eyes he did not hesitate to return his lips to hers, resuming where they had paused. He let his frantic kisses shout what he had denied himself all those months apart.

He wanted her. He needed her. He would give anything to be a part of her.

 _You're good at finding new ways to surprise me_ , he purred in her mind as he sucked on her bottom lip.

 _I've officially corrupted the innocent Jedi_.

She smiled against his lips, chuckling low in her throat.

“I wouldn’t say I’m all the way corrupted yet, love,” she growled in his ear, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against the soft skin just behind his jaw.

The thought of him corrupting her was quickly becoming a more and more desirable option. She would gladly give up any more thoughts of innocence and purity if it could only be his touch bringing her to ruination.

He hummed in pleasure, his thumb still idly circling her right breast.

“We can fix that.” He let out a throaty chuckle. "If I'd have known it was this easy, I would have started sooner."

He returned her kiss with her own trail of sloppy kisses down her neck. He paused to lavish attention on her clavicle, tracing the smooth line of skin and bone where his was fractured, scarred.

As his lips moved to her sternum, he hooked the rest of his fingers in the top of her breast band and with a quick tug pulled it away, exposing half of her chest to the soft glow in the candledroid.

He was past asking for permission. After admiring the pert nipple on her small, perfect breast, he took her enthusiasm as approval to begin to move his mouth to worship the revealed flesh.

She moaned, high and wanton, at his mouth on her. Her fingers knotted into his hair, still damp from the rain. She was on fire, burning and aching and coiled like a spring about to snap. It was too much.

"Ben, love, slow down," she panted weakly. "Slow...oh stars, Ben, please."

As his mouth unraveled her, his good arm was a durasteel band around her back, fingers grabbing for purchase against her smooth skin. She didn't know if he had heard her. She wasn't sure if she cared.

He heard her, of course, but he chose not to listen.

She was a lit fuse in the Force. She was a blaster bolt, she was stronger than the lightning above them, burning bright and powerful and hot, and he wanted to hold her tight, to cling to the energy she emitted until he burned with it.

His tongue skating deliriously around her areola, he savored the softness and sweetness of her bare skin. And it was all for him, he reflected. She revealed herself for him, his eyes, his touch, his mouth. His pleasure.

He wanted to return the favor in kind, but knew he had little left of himself to give her.

She cried out, her senses overloading with the taste, the scent, the solid heat of him. She felt as though she were moments from combustion. She wondered absently if this is how stars came into existence.

She tugged his head away from her breast, her fingers knotted into his dark hair, and attacked his mouth with hers. If she thought that this change would save her from the fires he had been stoking in her chest, she had thought wrong. Her fingers began to trail downward, inching closer and closer to the hardness pressed between them.

Suddenly she froze, her awareness immediately returned to her.

Ben, distracted by her hands, saw Rey's panic before he felt the sharp shift in the Force.

"Rey?" he panted. He felt the heat that had grown between them in the small cabin rapidly freeze, and the Force grew tense, fear spreading between them.

In the distance and fast approaching, the sound of speeders cut through the slowing rain. Rey’s heart stopped.

Had they been found?

She pulled away abruptly, standing shakily in the tiny room. She tugged her breast band up and untied the sleeves of her jumpsuit from her waist, slipping into it and zipping up faster than either of them expected. Her pack flew to her hand, her staff stayed put. The candledroid went out, casting them into darkness.

As her eyes adjusted, she cast a heavy glance back at Ben before falling to her knees beside him. She touched his face with one soft hand and pressed an even softer kiss to his bruised lips.

 _Forgive me_ , she whispered into his mind. _I have to ask you to wait again_.

His heart sunk, but he cursed his naivety; this whole afternoon had been dangerous, and they had chosen to risk it.

The bath had been particularly foolish; he could have been found by the Resistance, naked and unable to run. The rain had made them bold, arrogant. He didn't regret it, however; he couldn't deny her anything.

He closed his eyes, and sent a single, loving thought back.

_Fly fast. Just be safe. Come back to me._

She darted for the door, her fingers still grasping for his as they broke away. As she disappeared out into the woods, one quiet thought passed through her mind.

 _I love you_.

She didn’t stop to think of the ramifications of such a confession. He knew. Surely he knew...

Soon she was straddling and engaging the speeder before soaring out into the night to meet her comrades.

Over the wind whipping past and the last, slow drops of rain pouring through the treetops, she heard his response like a whisper.

_I want to look in your eyes when I say it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's at this point that the glass-femured douchebag in the woods becomes the naked glass-femured boy toy in the forest and I'm pretty sure that's all I want in life.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Supreme Leader of the First Order survives a TIE crash from the upper atmosphere and walks away from it, right?” Seth whispers, leaning in. “Would you want to go after a monster like that?”

Ben’s heart didn’t stop racing for what felt like hours after Rey’s speeder disappeared from the range of his senses.  
  
He could still feel her, of course, her presence distant and murky like stones at the bottom of a deep lake, but the question of where and what had happened was unclear. He just knew she was still on the planet and alive, yet that wasn’t enough for him. He still fretted.

She had told him she loved him again, and beneath the panic, his heart soared. Of course, he had been too scared to say the same. He had completely fallen over his words on Canto Bight the first time he tried to tell her how he felt.

Maybe he’d be better this time. Maybe a simple “I love you” would suffice. He would have to tell her.

He would see her again, he told himself.

He could feel others on speeders zipping through the forest. Sometimes they came close.

When he regained his senses, he tried his hardest to assume a defensive stance. He pulled his still-damp underwear on as quickly as he could manage, and gradually, forcing himself through the soreness, pulled himself into a squatting position. Using Rey’s staff for balance he pulled himself to stand once more on his only good leg, and, when enough of the pain passed, pulled on his discarded black and red cape.

He limped to position himself in full view of the doorway, just in case.

And in the dark, he waited.  


 

Rose twisted the lid off her bottle and inhaled deeply the scent of the caf. She glared over the neck as she took a small sip. It was early, far too early for her liking, and she was not awake.

But Finn had insisted they had to be there. So she continued glaring in his direction. He pretended not to notice.

"I don't think she's coming," Poe ventured after a long silence. He leaned heavily against the wall of the hangar.

Finn, wide awake and bubbly despite the hour, waved off his friend’s dismay.

"Come on, she'll be here," he said with a broad grin. "And you know she'll be happy to see us!"

At some point during the storm, after some not-inconsiderable searching around the base, Rose had finally sat Poe and Finn down and stated what they hadn’t dared say: Rey was nowhere to be found. Despite the warnings to take shelter, as the Takodana summer storms were known to flood the numerous lakes and cause deadly landslides, her speeder, the one with her staff permanently strapped to it and an uncommonly silent engine, was not in its usual spot in the hangar. They could only assume she had disappeared on an errand and had taken shelter somewhere else in the forest. She wasn’t foolish enough to brave this storm uncovered.

As the afternoon dragged on, the three found that no distraction was enough to keep their furious thoughts off their missing friend. Even BB-8’s usual antics seemed subdued. After several card games in which the conversation consisted primarily of “Wait, whose turn is it?”, the three gave up trying to pretend to be apathetic, and succumbed to a shared anxiety that was quite different from the relaxed chatter that otherwise permeated the lounge.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Poe said nonchalantly as he scritched his droid’s little round head absently, though he felt a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach: a gnawing terror. This wasn’t like her. Partially, he blamed himself. He was afraid the party might have been too much for the poor girl. But she had seemed to have such a good time…

“She’s probably just stuck doing...you know…”

“Jedi stuff,” Finn and Rose said in unison. When the two had first started dating, this sort of accidental mimicry would have been the cause for giggles, but they were both too worried to find joy in the situation.

“We know that,” Rose said. “But she’s still...gone.” She shook her head grimly. “She’s been becoming more and more scarce, and with this weather...it just doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like Rey.”

BB-8 likewise expressed concern that manifested as a series of somber beeps and whirrs.

“Well, I mean, I think I can say that if something does go bad with the weather, it’s nothing she can’t handle,” Finn said confidently. “You know, with the Force and all. Poe, remember the rocks?”

“How can I forget the rocks?” Poe asked sarcastically, draping himself over the back of his chair and staring at the ceiling. “I just wanna know Rey’s okay, Finn.”

Something about Poe’s words seemed to reignite an ember of suspicion in Finn, though he chose not to push it.

“If something was wrong, you know she’d contact us. I’m sure she’s just off meditating somewhere,” Finn said.

BB-8 responded with an optimistic whistle of encouragement.

“I hope you’re right,” Rose muttered.

Finn had concocted a plan that night and roused them all early, coaxing them out of their bunks with caf and pastries from the mess, figuring with their combined energy, they could convince Rey show off her Jedi routines. Something to make her feel special.

"She'll like not being alone, I think. She’s probably tired of running everywhere," he said. Really, he was still feeling guilty about the party. He wanted her to feel as if she could open up to him, but he felt that he had maybe boxed her in more with his comments.

Oh, and the bet with Poe. That probably didn’t help either.

But this way, Rey would see that her friends wanted to enter her world, the Jedi one, and she might feel more comfortable opening up to them about her Force training. And whatever else seemed to trouble her, he hoped.

When he suggested they pick her off before she took off in the morning, Poe and Rose agreed, and they rose before the sun to wait by her speeder.

Finn heard the door to the hangar open, and as soon Rey slipped into view, he waved.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Rey jumped, an undignified squawk escaping her as she was wrenched from her distraction.

“...Hi, guys,” she said. “You’re all up...early. Anything wrong?”

Finn pouted. "Nothing's wrong. Can't we be excited to see our best Jedi friend?"

She cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know anyone _could_ be excited this early, Peanut,” she deadpanned.

Finn staggered backward into Rey's speeder.

"Rose..." he panted dramatically. "Poe...help me. I think...I think she's saying she doesn't like my smiling face... first thing in the morning."

"I mean, I can't blame her. I’m not exactly in love with it, either," Rose grumbled into her caf.

Poe stepped forward. "What they mean is that we're happy to see you, Rey.”

“And I’m happy to see you too,” she said slowly. “Sorry, I think I’m just a bit confused. Why are you all here so early?”

"We could ask you the same question," Rose said flatly, burying her face into her cafe once more.

"To catch you, of course!" Finn volunteered brightly.

Rey straightened a bit, not really knowing what to do with this.

“Well, I was just going to go out to the woods to meditate,” she said quietly. “Nothing much to catch me at.”

"'Catch you at'?" Poe repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"We didn't mean it like that!" Finn said quickly, holding his hands up. "We didn’t see you yesterday, and you're just always gone off working all day before we can say hello in the mornings.”

"We were trying to surprise you," Rose explained. "Surprise."

Rey huffed a little laugh, smiling tiredly.

“That’s sweet, you guys,” she said, wrapping her arms around her friends. “I wish I could say my morning was more interesting, but really it’s just going to be me sitting quietly the forest for a while.”

She withdrew, eyeing Rose’s dark circles and Poe’s morning scruff.

“Really, you all should go back to bed, you need the rest more than I do.”

"Well, I know there's probably not much we can do since we can't, you know..." Finn paused, waggling his fingers. "Use the Force or anything, but we want to come keep you company."

"We wouldn't be up this early if we didn't want to be," Rose said, some of the gruffness evaporating from her tone.

"We want to be there for you," Poe added quietly. “Not just today. But in general.”

Rey’s heart clenched. She thought back to what Ben had said the night before.

_Do you let your friends help you? Or do you push them away too?_

Her side twinged at his remembered accusation. She couldn’t keep pushing them away. One day she might push them too far and they would stop coming back. She had to make an effort.

Ben would be alright if she was a bit late today. He’d understand.

He would wait for her.

She smiled at her friends.

“Alright,” she said. “But if I catch anyone sleeping during meditation, I’m sending you right back to bed. Clear?”

Finn, ever the soldier, stood at attention. "Roger." He shot her a wink.

"Thanks, Rey," Rose said quietly, taking her hands. "I know we haven't been there for you lately. We really want to make up for it."

"Oh come on, let's be honest," Poe barked. "We just want to see what cool Jedi stuff Rey gets into when we're not around."

Rey laughed, squeezing Rose’s hands as she did so.

“Honestly, Poe,” she quipped. “You know it’s all just lifting rocks.”

"How are you still blissfully ignorant of the fact that was the coolest thing I have ever seen?" Poe asked emphatically. "I would give my left leg to the First Order to be able to that."

She smirked, puffing up a bit with pride.

“Well before you can lift rocks, you have to learn how to balance yourself,” she intoned sagely. “Come on, we should start walking while it’s still cool out.”

"Uhh, Rey," Rose asked, swinging the hand that Rey still held, perhaps a bit too tightly. "Don't you normally take your speeder out when you go...Jedi-ing?"

Something like panic flashed cold and flinty in Rey’s hazel eyes. Then she grinned.

“Well we can’t all fit on my speeder, can we?” she chirped a bit too brightly. “I’ve got another spot a bit closer that I like, too.”

“Besides, a nice walk will help perk you morning glories up!”

Poe let out a quiet groan. He didn't want to admit he might have had too much to drink while cooped up on base during the rainstorm, which made the idea of walking a drudgery. Finn trotted ahead, joking amiably and walking backwards to keep his ever-watchful eyes focused on his friends.

Thanks to Finn's infectious energy, Rey led her little band of would-be pupils to a sun dappled clearing just beyond the edge of the forest, resting on the bank of a small lake.

"Alright, my little Padawans," she singsonged as she folded her legs under her. "Everybody take a seat and catch your breath."

Finn, Poe, and Rose settled on the soft, wet ground in a circle around Rey. The mist floating off the lake was refreshing, almost to the point of chilling them. Obediently, they crossed their legs, though Poe struggled a bit to fold himself up in a ball.

"Ready, Master Rey!" Finn said eagerly. He loved how confident his friend looked for a change. She was in her element.

She was at peace, he reflected. He knew his friends worried for Rey, but at this moment, he couldn't bring himself to fret. Rey was ever herself, ever bright and radiant.

She winked at Finn, his enthusiasm lighting up the air around him.

“Okay,” she began, trying to make her voice as serene as possible. She had never had to explain the process of meditation before and she hoped that she got it right. “Close your eyes.”

She watched and waited for eyelids to slip closed and faces to relax.

Poe, grimacing at the beam of sunlight landing directly on his face, was the last to follow orders.

Satisfied that her students were following her directions, she closed her own eyes and continued.

“Take a deep breath,” she said softly, inhaling. “Fill your lungs, your entire chest. Do you feel that? The energy?”

Finn sat his straightest and nodded. Poe shifted in response. Rose, assuming the question was primarily rhetorical, focused on her breathing.

“That energy, that feeling in the pit of your stomach,” Rey breathed, sending her awareness out into the universe, “that’s the Force. Breathe. Open your mind. Reach out with your feelings. The Force surrounds us, it penetrates us, it holds the galaxy together. There is the Light; life, birth, growth, healing. There is the Dark; death, decay, chaos, violence. And between it all is balance.”

She reached out into the forest, seeking the signature of her balance. Ben. The Dark to her Light. He was awake, aware, lying in wait. She breathed through the anticipation coiling in her gut. The burn of his caress, his kisses, suddenly fiery in her opened mind. She shook herself free and continued.

“Light and Dark, it is within us all. To apply morality to either side is vanity, the hubris of all beings. Too much of either and there is imbalance. Good and evil, right and wrong, that is beyond the cares of the Force. There is only the balance.”

The Force flowed through her students like the vapor dancing over the still lake. Finn was listening intently, her words enshrouding him in the wisdom of generations. Rose was processing each word individually, her mind racing with images from her childhood, light and dark. Poe's mind bristled. Balance seemed unrealistic to him. He wanted to eradicate the First Order, the darkness. He couldn't find a center between the work he did and what they stood for.

“Keep breathing,” Rey murmured. “Let your mind travel out into the Force. Become one with it. Let it flow through you. User or not, we are all one with the Force and the Force is with us. Accept it, understand it, stay open to it, and just...breathe.”

She could feel each of her friends, flickering lights in the Force, each one connecting in their own way. Each trying to find their own kind of balance.

And she felt Ben; the blazing conflagration of his signature miles away, the flames licking and curling gently around her mind, drawing images and sensations to the foreground of her consciousness. She shivered in the cool, dewy air and the heat of her daydreams. Balance.

Her friends' hearts slowed until they almost felt to Rey to be asleep. Their thoughts came and went like curious birds flitting from branch to branch, but they remained poised, mimicking Rey's meditative pose. Perhaps they could really feel the Force; Poe wasn't so sure, though Finn was eager to believe. Rose kept thinking she felt it, lost the sensation, and reached for it again, growing increasingly frustrated.

Rey let the quiet trembling of the lake and the faint noises of the forest filter through her mind. The world around her spread wide and she felt almost weightless, floating in the current of the Force. It had been a long time since her meditations were so serene. Try as she might, the past six months had made it hard to clear her mind, even harder to find peace. Now, surrounded by her friends, the forest, the hard-won respite of reconciliation with Ben, she felt the Light blossoming within her, pushing her awareness out and out and out into the wide galaxy around her. She felt herself blessedly present, enjoying the company of her friends. Her heart rate slowed, her limbs relaxed, and Rey began to drift.

 

Rose felt her frantic mind begin to settle as her breathing deepened. She wasn’t sure if she felt the Force in her gut like Rey suggested, but she felt more awake now that the caf had had time to kick in, and in her wakefulness, she felt herself growing even more confused than she had been the night before. Rey’s behavior was bizarre; that was a well-established fact among those close to the Jedi. However, Rose hadn’t told the guys just how bad things were. Rey disappeared in the middle of the party, she vanished during the storm lock-down, and when it was time for breakfast, Rose always knew before her knuckles hit her friend’s door that Rey wasn’t there.

She tried to write it off as Rey’s fiercely independent nature; so many years spent alone in the desert shaped her into a more solitary creature than the soldiers Finn and Poe. Rey hadn’t been raised with siblings as partners and confidants like she had been with Paige. Rose didn’t want to appear to be judgmental of Rey’s behavior; neither woman could help the way their upbringing had shaped them. But she and Rey had a lot in common. She didn’t want Rey to be afraid of being herself around her, or of their other friends.

Ultimately, Rose realized as she listened to the lake brush against the shore and the wind rustle the trees around them, she wanted to protect Rey, to keep the other woman’s secret, but she was afraid. She was afraid she was making a big deal out of nothing, but she was more afraid that her silence might be endangering one of her closest friends. She wasn’t sure she could live with herself if Rey truly did get lost in the woods, or something much worse.

Jedi or not, the fact that Rey had disappeared in the rain and hadn’t answered her comm had been cause for concern. When Rose had stepped out into the hallway to use the ‘fresher, she had witnessed Rey’s return. As she stormed down the corridor, grim-faced and dripping wet, she mentioned in a hurried mumble that she got lost and her comm must have shorted in the rain. She vanished into her room without further explanation, shutting the door behind her as quickly as possible.

It was a sensible explanation, certainly, but it wasn’t reassuring.

More was going on than Rey was letting on, and Rose didn’t know whether to press the issue and possibly push her friend away, or to just let Rey sort things out for her own.

She sighed, shifting her hips, which had grown stiff.

She was scared to find out the cost of inaction, but she was scared to actively ruin a friendship.

_Time to play the waiting game._

 

Finn found himself distracted by the sounds of the forest, and by his friends’ strange behavior towards one another. He occasionally cracked one eye open to see if anything passed between the two when they thought he and Rose were distracted.

He didn’t know how to interpret the intimacy he had witnessed between Rey and Poe when the pilot returned; perhaps Rey’s strange behavior was due to her feelings for him? She had seemed different since Poe had arrived back at base, more vibrant that she had in months.

Maybe, Finn wondered, his eagerness to have his friends find happiness with one another had backed Rey into a corner. She felt embarrassed about her feelings and was now evading them. She was avoiding Finn and Poe and Rose lest she reveal her feelings to Poe and face his rejection, and jeopardizing her friendships in the process.

Finn was determined not to let that happen.

He slowly opened both eyes to scan Poe and Rey. Rey seemed eerily serene, unmoving and breathing deeply. Poe seemed...constipated? His friend couldn’t settle. It wasn’t that hard to sit still, but the pilot, whose job was to sit for hours in the same general position, couldn’t get comfortable for more than a few seconds.

He tried not to let himself leap to conclusions, and yet...

 

Poe was in a sour mood. Surrounded by the serene lake and the endless, beautiful forest with nothing to do but focus on his breathing, he really had no reason to feel so miserable. But his ill temper had little to do with having drank too much.

Sure, the morning came too early, but Poe hadn’t gotten where he was by being a deep sleeper. He wasn’t a morning person by anyone’s standards, but he was adaptable. However, the hour hadn’t been what disturbed him, nor was it the alcohol he consumed the night before. It was the ideas that had filled his head, leaving it foggy and delirious. He felt jumpy. Restless.

Even now, when he should have been meditating, he couldn’t help but replay the previous night’s conversation. He fidgeted. He couldn’t get settled in.

Finn and Rose, still reeling from the stress of Rey’s absence, had retreated to bed early. Poe found himself unwilling to wind down for the evening, especially when there were other activities for a quiet, rainy evening. Namely, sneaking away to drink in the hangar after the storm had passed.

As Poe crossed through the personnel doors into the hangar, he found himself greeted by the sounds of lively conversation and a small, wet shadow smacking right into his chest.

“Whaa--” he uttered, looking down at the cause of the collision.

Rey. Soaked to the bone and shivering, she stumbled back, freezing. Her red-rimmed eyes scanned his face.

He opened his mouth to greet her, and the movement seemed to awaken her again, her expression unreadable.

“Hey, Poe,” she mumbled, her tone monotonous. “Comm broke.”

She tried to shove her way past him. “Got lost. Good night.”

He reached out an arm to halt her.

“You okay? You were out there a long time. Had us worried sick.”

She ducked his arm with fluid ease and without another word, she was gone.

Poe pivoted to follow her, and started calling after her, when he heard someone shout his own name. Glancing over his shoulder back at the hangar, Snap brandished a flask of something he swore Poe had to try. His gaze returned to linger where Rey had just vanished from sight, and with a frustrated, decisive huff, he turned back to the hangar. She probably was drenched and grumpy. He would deal with her tomorrow.

He quickly fell into the comfortable lull of camaraderie with the other crew members who had sneaked away to drink. The slight drizzle through the open bay doors was soothing, and the chilly air was a relief from the heat of the past several days, and Poe quickly forgot the stress his Jedi friend had put him under.

Though many of the other crew members came and went, he stayed long after the most of the others had filtered out. Poe hadn’t known the last two crew members that stayed with him, but they had offered him a bottle of something strong. Sitting on a cargo crate, Poe watched the rain and drank in silence while the other two continued talking in eager whispers. After a while, he listened in to the conversation next to him with a curious ear.

“Patrol’s still out there?”

“Yeah, a couple guys decided to do a scan once the rain let up enough. Took the speeders, just to see if the rain drew it out of hiding. Or forced it back in. Should be back soon. They’ve been out for a while.”

Poe cautiously glanced over at the two conversing.  
  
“I think more of us are starting to see it,” said the large, red-haired human man. “I mean, at the party they were treating us like we were crazy.”

“That maybe wasn’t the best place for it,” his companion, an Abednedo, piped in. “Everyone was too busy having fun to talk shop. But I think they’re coming around, I really do.”

Poe’s brow furrowed. He met the Abednedo’s gaze by mistake. Caught.

“So, Dameron, have you heard it, too?” the Abednedo asked, leaning in towards him.

The first man cast an eye on Poe, sizing him up. Poe couldn’t help but take the bait.

“Heard what?”

The man leaned back, satisfied. “Now, we wouldn’t want to offend our hero, here,” he said, a slight smirk teasing Poe.

He patted his Abednedo friend on the shoulder and addressed him directly. “Don’t be daft. Of course no one else would want to be the one to tell _him._ ”

Poe sighed and rolled his eyes, returning to his drink. “Your prerogative, buddy.”

The Abednedo glared at his friend, and leaned in towards Poe.

“Hey, man, we don’t mean anything by it.” The Abenedo struck a conciliatory tone. “We just...have seen some strange things around here.”

Poe’s eyebrow raised. “It’s a weird planet, yeah,” he said. “You’re not hurting my feelings by a correct observation.”

The Abednedo cast a sympathetic glance in Poe’s direction, looked for his friend’s approval, then continued.

“You know we appreciate what you did taking down the Supreme Leader’s ship and all, yeah? We don’t want to take that away from you,” he said. “But...some things aren’t adding up.”

Poe leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah? Like what?”

The large man elbowed his companion. “Come on, Taj. Where you keepin’ your choobies, huh?”

He turned to Poe. “Look, Dameron, you’re one of the best pilots we’ve got, and we don’t think you’re a bad shot at all, but that Supreme Leader you shot down? It ain’t dead.”

Poe balked. “Look, I know _he_ looks like a monster, but he’s just a human. He _can_ die. And he did,” he said, feeling as if he were parroting Rey. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

The Abednedo called Taj shrugged. “It’s just...improbable. The evidence isn’t there.”

“Oh?” Poe said testily. “Enlighten me. How was a concussive blast followed by a freefall from the upper atmosphere not enough to kill a human? The ship was on fire when it was found. There’s no way anyone could have survived that.”

“Look, I can’t get into the specifics of how, but us two were on the recon team. My man Seth’s got years of looking at TIEs under his belt, and he swears that that ship did not ignite in the atmosphere.”

Seth sat back proudly. Poe just glared.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

Seth beamed. “It’s obvious if you know what you’re looking for. The scorch marks on the chassis were completely wrong for atmospheric combustion. That thing didn’t crash and burn. It crashed, _then_ burned, you get me?”

Poe stared daggers. Confused, slightly intoxicated daggers.

“What are you saying? I mean, I get it. But if it didn’t burn up in the atmosphere...so what?”

“So what?” Taj said excitedly. “So that means whatever fire we found started after the TIE landed. And there were no human remains in that cockpit.”

Poe froze.

“So you think he’s alive?”

“Facts line up,” Seth said with a solemn nod. “No atmospheric combustion. No charred remains. The Supreme Leader was not in that TIE when it caught fire.”

His voice lowered. “Taj and I have our suspicions that the bastard just up and walked away from the whole damn thing.”

Poe wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been there before the TIE was cleared away for scrap. He hadn’t thoroughly read the recon analysis files yet either.

These guys seemed to know their stuff. And Poe had to suppress a shudder as he imagined the implications of them being right.

“So who else is in on this?” he asked.

“Just a couple others,” Seth said. “Few recon guys and whoever else would listen.” He chuckled at himself.

“I don’t think the higher-ups are too pleased to hear it though,” Taj said. “They either haven’t caught wind of what we’re saying and are still patting each other on the back, or…”

He cast a wary glance at Seth.

“They just don’t want to hear it. Would rather sweep this whole thing under the rug.”

Poe scowled. “Now why would they want to do that?”

“It’s easier,” Taj said with a nonchalant shrug. “I wouldn’t want to comb this damn rock for one crazy space wizard. I don’t care if it was the kriffing queen of Naboo. It’s not worth it.”

“I got my own theory on that,” Seth said, raising his chin haughtily to stare down at his conversation partners.

The two stared at him in silence for a moment.

“The Supreme Leader of the First Order survives a TIE crash from the upper atmosphere and walks away from it, right?” Seth whispers, leaning in. “Would _you_ want to go after a monster like that?”

“The brass doesn’t like the idea of sending us on a suicide mission, but a bunch of us aren’t content to sit around here and wait for the beasty to come get us when we’re comfy in our beds,” Taj added.

Poe felt the moisture in the air sink into his bones, and he was suddenly very cold.

He remembered that monster picking around in his brain. It had been as if needles were digging into his mind. Each memory the masked wraith combed through was tainted with a ruddy film of horror. There was fire where there was once life. Where beauty and joy had lived in Poe’s mind, there was hate. There was darkness.

He recalled an untainted memory: his thumb on the trigger, Kylo Ren’s TIE Silencer in his scope. The black ship had seemed to hesitate. Poe didn’t.

And if the chance ever presented itself again, he wouldn’t pause

After a moment, he found his voice again.

“So what do we do?”

Poe listened to their plans, the bottle he’d been clutching forgotten on the hangar bay floor. He was so engrossed in the conversation and his vision so fuzzy from the alcohol, that a shadow caught his eye. His gaze came into focus after a moment.

Rey’s speeder. Her frighteningly quiet, frequently absent speeder. Her staff was missing. Had she been carrying it when she bumped into him? She must’ve been, it was never farther than arm’s reach away from her.

Taj and Seth had barely acknowledged his silence, continuing to mutter in hushed tones about their theories. Poe, however, had been instantly, albeit hazily, aware of something terrifying.

New thoughts, fuelled by booze and talk of phantoms prowling the woods, buzzed through his brain. If the Supreme Leader _was_ still alive and still out there, what if he found Rey? Poe had spent enough time with that monster picking through his head to know that her mind would be a far greater prize to the other Force user. If Ren got a hold of her…

It was that chilling thought that had sobered Poe enough to make his way back to his bunk. His dreams were full of screams and a growling mechanical laugh, and he blessedly forgot every one of them when Finn had shaken him awake a few hours later.

Sitting by the side of the lake, he remembered the night before, and the feeling of Kylo Ren’s black gloved fingers digging through his brain.

He exhaled a breath he had forgotten he was holding. Sure, the rumor sounded strange, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances. He shifted his shoulders and sat up straighter, resolved to make damn sure that Rey never had to feel those claws tearing apart her sanity as well.

 

 

The first thing she noticed was the coolness of the dewy air on her skin. Too much of her skin…was she naked? Where had her clothes gone and when had that happened…something warm brushed against her neck.

Then suddenly, heat. All-encompassing and solid around her. Heat in the shadowy shape of…a man? Large hands with long fingers skated delicately over her shoulders, down her arms, sliding back up her sides to cover her breasts. Soft lips sweetly attacked any skin they could find with ardent focus, and she could vaguely feel gusting sighs breezing against her flesh. She was reeling with the sensation of it all but unable to return the affections of her incorporeal lover. She felt her face heat as she thought about what his skin would taste like under her kisses.

Despite the onslaught of carnal pleasure, she couldn’t deny how…safe she felt. How loved.

She felt lips moving against her neck, forming words that could’ve been her name, could’ve been words she was desperate to hear, could’ve been a soundless confession.

Almost on instinct, she floated out a tendril of consciousness deeper into the woods. If she could just reach a little farther...

_Rey?_

The voice calling her name...it was all wrong.

She couldn’t figure out how she knew it, but the hands, those lips...they didn’t belong to the sound reverberating in her mind.

“Hey! Rey!”

Her eyes snapped open. Poe stood over her, his hand on her shoulder.

She clung to the dream tightly, unwilling to give up the fading touch of her invisible lover.

“What?” she snapped, a bit peevishly.

He smirked down at her. “Didn’t you say something about falling asleep during meditation?”

She squinted at him with impotent ire behind her eyes. Finn snickered quietly from his spot on the ground. At least Rose had the decency not to laugh at her.

“I was not asleep!” Rey protested, stifling a poorly timed yawn. “I was one with the Force...deep breathing, not sleeping.”

Poe snorted. “Yeah, right, of course, Master Rey,” he chortled. “What’s next?”

“Well, I should be getting ready to report in for my assignment...” Rey began, but Poe waved off her protests.

“Nope, no assignments, Miss Jedi Master,” he said. “You’re off for today. As are we all. Come on. When can we lift rocks, too?”

“Oh go jump in the lake, Dameron,” she sniped.

Poe laughed. Finn rose suddenly, wearing a hurt expression.

“Does that mean you aren’t going to hang out with us on our day off?”

 _Force guilt trip seems to be catching,_ Rey thought bitterly.

She sighed. “No, I didn’t say that,” she said quickly. “I just...working with the Force is weird and frustrating enough when you have the abilities.” Her shoulders slumped a bit. “I don’t want you all to feel like less because you can’t move rocks.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want you to resent me for it.”

Rose snorted. “Resent you? Rey, why in entropy would we resent you for being what you are?” She shook out her cramped legs and stood, too, walking over to Rey. “We didn’t honestly expect to magically discover our hidden Force powers today. We just wanted to learn more about what you do.”

“Take your Resistance to work day,” Poe said with a smirk.

“Yeah!” Finn said excitedly. “We just wanted to see you. To bask in the coolness of being the only people in the galaxy with a Jedi friend!”

She grinned softly. _You’re not the only ones_ , she thought to herself.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, guys.”

She beamed up at her friends, taking the moment to soak up the humming waves of affection surrounding them in the Force. _They won’t abandon you_ , said the kind part of her heart that always sounded like Ben. _They love you. You’re important to them._

“If it’s alright with you, though, I’d like to get a bit more meditating in while I’m in the zone. You can join me, if you want.”

“Nope, I’m bored,” Poe said definitively, strolling away. “I’m going to do what Master said and jump in the lake.”

“Wha--” Rose opened her mouth to speak, but shut it abruptly when she felt Poe’s boots fly by her head. The older man rolled his pants up above his knees and started at a jog into the water. He stopped and turned back to the shore.

“Kriff, that feels nice!” he declared, hands on his hips. “You guys are welcome to continue lifting gravel. I’ll be here.”

When no one took the bait, he dipped his fingers to the water and started splashing it towards his friends.

A little droplet struck Finn. He looked at Rose, conflicted. She nodded, and in a moment, his boots were off too.

“Sorry, Rey, lightsabers are cool, but I’m not cut out to be a Jedi,” he said, clearly remorseless. “I do want to take this guy down, though.”

In a moment, Finn was trudging through the water at a waterlogged sprint, attempting to tackle his friend, but falling before he could make it.

The lesson was clearly over. Rey shook her head with a fond smile.

“Fine!” she called over the splashing water. “Rose and I will just sit over here and meditate like civilized people.”

There was a strange splashing sound moments later as both men discarded their shirts on the rocks dotting the edge of the lake.

The two women watched their friends attempt to wrestle each other in the lake for a few moments in comfortable silence before Rose turned to Rey with a sigh.

“Should we go make sure they don’t kill themselves?”

Rey already had her boots off and she was starting to unwind her arm wraps, a sunny, utterly unapologetic grin blinding across her face as she trotted off toward the water.

 _There’s our girl_ , Rose thought with a smile as she began to follow her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Wars Fun Fact! All Abednedos in _The Force Awakens_ and the following comics are named for Beastie Boys songs.
> 
> On that note:
> 
> So LISTEN ALL YA'LL, THIS IS SABBO TAJ.
> 
>  
> 
> Look, I entertain and educate you all. Please stop tattling about my behavior to Lucasfilm.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You call me ‘cyar’ika,’” she mused. “But I don’t have a word for you...”

_ I can sing and speak to him in many sorts of music _

Twelfth Night, I.II  


* * *

  
With his bad leg stretched out and his good leg curled into his chest, Ben formed a slumped heap opposite the doorway, a ball of shadow with pale legs attached. He was wrapped in his cape with the staff still leaning against the wall at his side. When Rey stepped over the threshold and into the small, dark cabin, she had almost stepped on him before he jerked awake suddenly. His hair had fallen into his face, and when he felt her crouching over him, he tried to peer at her through the unruly locks in his eyes.

He flicked on the candledroid with a minute wave of his fingers, and he blinked a few times before his eyes adjusted on her form.

“You made it,” he said, his low voice scratchy, but full of relief.

Her breath caught in her throat. She fell to her knees in front of him, pushing his hair back from his eyes. They were bloodshot and bleary as they found her face.

"How long have you been up?" she choked, half-frantic and on the verge of tears. Her fingers ran compulsively through his hair.

A weak smile teased his mouth.

"Depends," he said. "When was the last time I saw you?"

She swallowed a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing as tightly as she could without aggravating his shoulder.

"Why would you do that?" she whispered. "You're going to make yourself sick."

The feeling of her sudden warmth around him was soothing, and he reached his arm around her shoulders, encircling her in his embrace.

"Well would that be so bad? I'd have you taking care of me longer.”

He buried his face in her shoulder, and let his hand travel wander her back in long, gentle strokes, as if calming a scared child. 

"I heard the speeders pass by. I kept watch as long as I could. I had to make sure you were alright, and to...well, I know there's not much I could do if someone decided to check in here, but to try to defend myself. I slept a bit last night, but..."

She knew enough, he thought. He didn’t want to worry her further.   
  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I tried to get back all day, but I had to make sure I wasn't followed."

She pulled him closer, weaving a hand through his hair. Her eyes squeezed shut and she tried to rein in her breathing.

"Force, Ben, I was so scared that they were going to find you. All night I kept expecting someone to wake me up, to--to tell me that they'd captured you...that I'd watch them drag you back to base, beaten and bleeding..."

Her heart in her throat, as she flew back to base, she had had to be careful lest she crash, as vicious phantoms teased her mind: a Resistance soldier dragging Ben by the hair, blood pouring from his scalp and mouth and countless lacerations on his body. The sight of the dark bruises on his leg had haunted her, and all she could imagine were the purple-black splotches everywhere, his legs bent at inhuman angles, his arms hanging limp and useless at his side. His eyes would be bleary and unseeing as they scanned the merciless faces waiting at base. Despite this, he would be looking for her, for a kind face. Looking for her to end the pain.

She had barely slept the night before, and when she had finally fallen asleep, restless and skin too-tight, she tried to block out the imagined shouts of victory covering over Ben’s pained whimpers. She had rushed out early to find him, ease her fearful heart, but she had been prevented.

It was his turn to be calming, to heal the emotional wounds that were constantly being ripped open when they were together.

"Shhh, I'm here, cyar'ika." His voice was low and quiet as he started running his hand up to her neck. 

"Nothing bad happened to me, see? Well, nothing since the crash," he said, slowly guiding her down to sit across from him. "I'm just glad you're back in one piece."   
  
Rey took a few deep, shaking breaths. Her eyes were focused entirely on him as she let the thrumming in her bones dissipate. She took in the image of him. He had waited up for her for hours, barely sleeping, probably not eating, dehydrated and frantic with worry. 

As panic fled her system, it was replaced by an old, unwanted friend: guilt. 

How could she have done this to him? His eyes, glazed over with exhaustion, moved sluggishly over her face as if he were trying to tattoo every feature into his memory. She knew this look. It was the look of the abandoned, the ones destined to be left behind, the forgotten, the brushed aside. It had been her look for so many years. She of all people knew the pain of being deserted. And what had she done?

She had left him, alone in this shack, while she had played in the lake with her friends. The guilt coiled in her gut, a creature slick and toothy and clawed. She felt sick. 

_ She felt like her parents. _

She shook her head free of the dark thought. No she had come back, she snarled fiercely at the monster in her belly. She was not like them. Her friends needed her just as much as he did. She hadn’t abandoned him. She came back for Ben. He wasn’t angry with her. He didn’t hate her. He was happy to see her.  _ He lov-- _

No...that was just a dream. No good came of projecting her dreams onto him. She had learned that lesson the hard way. 

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "I got a firm talking-to about not answering my commlink, but how was I supposed to answer a broken comm?"

She peeked at him with a weary grin from beneath her lashes.   
  
He froze a moment while he scanned his foggy memory, and then broke into a smile.

"I'm tired of making corrupted Jedi jokes," he said. "You're just reckless and disobedient."

He leaned in, smirking, and gently pulled her hand from her face, squeezing her palm in his.

"I like that side of you."

He rested her hand on his knee, and brought his own hand up to stroke her face, clearing away any remaining tears. The relief of her return flooded him, though his exhaustion masked his exuberance. Since she had fled he could still feel her, knew she was alive, but she had gone so far from him that he had no sense of whether she was otherwise safe. Their bond was still growing stronger after its severance.

"I'm surprised they only gave you a slap on the wrist. Are they getting suspicious, do you think?"

She shook her head, exhaling in a gust.

"Not that you're here, as far as I know," she said. "But they are starting to wonder why I keep sneaking out into the woods every day. I can only use the meditation or 'secret Jedi training' excuse so many times." She snorted. "That's part of the reason why I was late today."

She abruptly became serious, her forehead creasing with worry.

"We may have to consider moving you somewhere else." She squeezed his knee. "I don't know how much longer the cabin is going to be safe."

"I was thinking that myself," he said. "I don't know if you know of any other places where I can hide out until..." He paused, realizing they still didn't have a way to end that sentence. "Until we figure something out. But I can probably ride a speeder now, even with my broken leg."

He looked down at his bare legs.

"Some clothes would be nice, regardless."   
  
She smiled widely.

"Funny you should mention that," she trailed off, going for her pack.

With a flourish, she produced a frankly enormous pair of sickly yellow coveralls.

"I had to guess your size, and I know it's not really your color," she said, suddenly sheepish. "But I hope it works."

He took it from her, his nose crinkled in Huxian disgust.

"I feel like it's going to burn my skin off if I put it on," he said, eyes lingering on the Resistance starbird on the shoulder.

Rey shrugged and reached for it again.

“Fine, hang about naked, see if I care,” she said coolly. “Forgive me if it doesn’t meet your standards.”

“I bet you’d like that,” he mocked.  
  
He bunched it in his hands. He didn't want to wear it, but he couldn't bear to be found nearly naked by the Resistance, if or when they finally hunted him down.

"Sorry, I am just a bit uncomfortable wearing the insignia of the people who want me dead," he said, his voice low. "I know I'm not a prisoner, but this sure makes me feel like one."

She softened, her eyes tender.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can think of at least two people who wear the starbird that don’t want you dead,” she said quietly.

His thumb traced the patch carefully while he chewed on her words. He wanted to snap that he was certain that two people was far too generous, but he thought to the last time he sensed his mother. Though his thumb had been on the trigger of his ship's cannons, locked into the Resistance command bridge, he had spared her from death when he had felt her concern for him billowing off of her as a powerful wave soaring across the emptiness of space. He couldn't imagine she still felt the same, not after Crait.

She probably wanted him dead most fervently of all. Wished she had never given him life and cursed the galaxy with his existence. And he didn’t blame her one bit.

In the dim light, his eyes traced the silken red threads that created  the patch. That damn emblem. The starbird had been haunting him his whole life.

An unwelcome memory came to him, and he placed Rey's hand back on his bent knee. His mind brushed hers; an invitation. An apology.  
  


_ It was late at night. Ben's parents were together; a rare occurrence in the Solo family, but the source of Ben's few good memories, if they could even be called good. _

_ He was curled on his mother's lap, her gentle hands smoothing his hair and moving in calming strokes along his thin back. His father sat next to the two, clearly trying to offer comfort to one or both of them and absolutely floundering for the right words. _

_ There had been a nightmare, and Ben, not quite 6 years old, had been disturbed from his sleep so thoroughly that his parents had dropped everything to attend to his blood-churning scream of terror. Leia had been in the middle of a Holo-call and Han had been asleep, but the two scrambled to answer the boy's petrified cries. _

_ This was becoming a habit, Leia and Han had noticed separately, but this was the first time they had both been on-hand to console the boy. _

_ His body-wracking sobs eventually slowed to sniffles. _

_ “It was just a dream, Ben,” Leia whispered soothingly, her hair falling over them in a protective curtain. “It can’t hurt you.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It wasn’t a dream, Mommy,” the little boy whimpered. “It wanted to get me, it wanted to--” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Ben, it’s okay,” Han said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “There was nothing in your room. Don’t you think I would have gotten it if there was something?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Ben tried to nod as he buried his face deeper into his mother’s dressing gown. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s not going to come back, is it?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What’s not going to come back?” Leia asked, a slight hint of exhaustion and exasperation despite the sweetness of her voice. _

_ “The monster from my dream. The big...it was a big shadow…” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Nothing can hurt you,” Leia said. “I promise. We are here to protect you. You have me and your dad, and your uncle Luke, who’s travelling the whole galaxy protecting you, and the whole New Republic.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She shifted and pulled the pendant from around her neck. It was a silver Rebellion starbird, an anniversary gift from Han earlier in their marriage. With one hand still on her son, Leia unhooked the clasp and lowered it so Ben could see. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Look,” she said, slipping the chain around his neck. “I’ll even let you borrow this. For protection.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What is it?” he asked. He had seen the symbol over and over again throughout his life, but he didn’t quite know what it meant. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s the starbird, the sign of the Rebellion,” Han interjected.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s a sign of strength, a mark of protection,” Leia added. “Wherever you see it, you know you’ll find people who fight for what’s good and what’s right. You’ll always find help under it.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s a sign of hope,” Han finished, quietly. Leia turned to regard her husband, and Ben stopped sniffling at the seriousness of his father’s tone. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “For many people around the galaxy, things are pretty dark. And then they see this sign, and it’s a light. A promise,” he concluded.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Many people...” Ben repeated slowly, as his fingers came to clutch the necklace in his small fingers. “What about you and Mommy? Is it a sign of hope for you, too?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Leia smiled softly, sadly.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You are the greatest sign of hope for your father and me,” she said. “We look at you, and we see such life, such promise.” _

_ She paused, bringing his dark brown eyes to meet hers. _

_ “You are the only hope we need, Ben.”  
  
_ _ Han smirked proudly at his small family.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You’re gonna be just fine, kid. You got us.” _ _  
_   
The memory broke, and Ben turned away.

He knew there were some indulgences that he shouldn't share with Rey; as much as he wanted desperately for her to understand him, there were some things he couldn’t allow her to see. He was so weak, so raw and vulnerable, and for her to know the true extent...

"Hey."

She caught his face in her hands, tugging him gently back to face her. Her gaze was kind; not pitying, not sad, just...kind.

"It’s a beautiful memory," she said softly, her thumb rubbing over his cheek. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Certainly not with me."

"You don't need to see a dumb little kid crying to his mom and dad because he had a bad dream." He couldn’t meet her gaze. "I don't know why I thought you had to see it." 

He was embarrassed to show her the way he had cried as a young child, how fragile and fearful he had been, and in many ways still was. How his parents, the ones he betrayed, had doted on him when he couldn't sleep.

"It’s alright, Ben," she insisted. "I want to see you. I want to know you, all of you."

The exhaustion lay heavy on his face.   
  
“I don’t mean to be difficult, I hope you know that. I want to be better for you, to make up for what I did to hurt you. But there are some things I’m still struggling with.”

“Ben--”

He shifted, pulling his face free from her grip.

"I can't keep reliving these memories just to show you what I'm feeling when I can't explain it."

He looked back down at the angry red starbird on the arm of the coveralls, and brushed his thumb over the threads. It was a mark of both everything he hated and everything he once loved. And it was the mark of Rey, whom he loved still. Whom he still could lose.

“It hurts too much,” he whispered.

Quiet, she withdrew her hands, fiddling with them in her lap.

“I love your memories,” she murmured after a moment. “Even the hard ones. I know that it isn’t easy for you to explain what you’re thinking, I understand that. And I agree with you, I don’t think that you should rely on showing me what you can’t put into words. You can do better than that.”

His eyes darted back to her at her issued challenge. She reached for his hand, covering it and the starbird. “You’re already doing better than that. And I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled at him, at once fierce and kind. Her smile was pleasant. Warm. Her fingers stroked the back of his hand.

“But the fact that you trust me enough to let me in...I’m so used to walls. I’m not good at being vulnerable with other people. But not you. You let your walls down for me and it--it means more to me than you know...but I don’t want you to hurt because of that...”  
  
Rey couldn't explain to him why she wanted to know his memories. But she could show him. 

She flipped his hand over slowly and slid her palm against his, opening her mind to him. 

He saw her longing, the young girl dreaming of her family’s return and planning ways to make up for lost time. His memories were the closest thing to a real family she would ever experience. She was a scavenger, a scrappy, starving, selfish creature. She picked at shiny, broken things that people didn't want and hoarded them jealously. Ben's glowing memories of his childhood were treasures. The fact that he shared them with her made them all the more precious. She yearned for the warmth of those long ago days, for the comfort and safety of a loving family of her own. 

How could she say that to him? After all the pain and anguish that he suffered because of them? She couldn’t bear to see the pity and guilt in his eyes when she said the words. This was Ben, soft-hearted and besotted as he was, and he would bleed himself out in front of her if he believed it would make her smile. His memories caused him pain, but they lightened the hardened pieces in her heart, the spots that had calcified in the desert. They made her feel whole again. But he shouldn’t have to carry that burden. That was her own wound to heal.   
  
But even more, she looked on these memories and saw him. Ben. The gentle little boy he had been. A child who loved his parents and shied away from the cold, encroaching darkness. A youth who had fought so hard for so long to remain in the light. A man who she loved, shadows and all.

She pulled away gently, and cast her eyes down to her lap, picking at a loose thread on her pants.

“I don’t want you to feel responsible for fixing my issues. We both have things we need to work out for ourselves.” She looked up at him. “Just know that you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be here.”

He met her brief glance. He knew why he was scared to let her in more; there were so many memories he hadn't sorted through, not since he had cut himself off from being Ben Solo and became Kylo Ren. And Ben Solo had done some terrible things as well.   
  
He couldn't face what he had been. And he had to, if he wanted Rey to know him. It was a daunting task, and he was even weaker now than he had been as a young boy, scared of nightmares. He was a man scared to show the woman he loved the truth.   
  
But they were both willing to try. They’d figure it out, slowly but surely. Like healing broken bones.   
He took her hand in his once more, pulling her closer to him, and he kissed her on the cheek.   
  
“You’re not alone either,” he whispered into her ear. “And...thank you. I appreciate the clothes.”

She squeezed his fingers, turning her head towards him, their faces suddenly very close. She smiled softly and turned away, blushing. 

The little roughspun journal caught her eye and her grin widened.    
  
“I see you were keeping yourself occupied,” she said, gesturing to the book. “Can I see?”   
  
"Nosy, aren't you?" he said, his low voice playful. He bobbed his head. "Go on. Read my deepest thoughts."

She shied, turning the journal over in her hands.    
  
“I don’t mean to pressure you or anything,” she demurred. “I’m just curious. I’ve never really seen your handwriting before...”

He cocked a dark eyebrow.    
  
"Don't expect too much," he said. "My calligraphy lessons never really took."

She mumbled something about not having much to compare it with, but it was lost to silence as her eyes fell on the page.

Ben's writing started on the first blank page immediately following Rey's tally marks. It was a sheet of letters in Aurebesh. The writing was clunky, and the graphite lines were shaky. It took Rey a minute to realize that he had likely written this while his right hand was bound against his chest, so he was writing with his non-dominant hand. There were several more pages of Aurebesh letters, each getting more focused and clear.  
  
After this, the alphabet changed to High Galactic, and again, the writing seemed childish and chunky for the first few pages until he got the hang of it. There were several more pages of alphabets Rey didn't recognize, and then she saw words begin to emerge, first in the unfamiliar alphabets, then the familiar letters she knew all too well:

Rey. Her name was scribbled across several pages, in various scripts.

Her heart fluttered for a moment. She traced her fingers lightly over the graphite lines, a few stray specks of dark gray smudging under the trail of her fingertips.    
  
_ I had no idea that my name could look so beautiful... _

Ben fumbled with the coveralls in his good hand. He had considered trying to pull it on, but the process of rolling up the legs of the suit and sliding it over his bad leg with one arm seemed impossible. Attempting it with the Force in front of Rey just seemed humiliating.   
  
He peered over at the journal.   
  
"It might make you happy to know that's the alphabet of an ancient Sith language," he said. After a beat, he added, "Snoke made me learn."

She cocked her head at him quizzically.    
  
“I didn’t know the Sith had their own language,” she said. “Did the Jedi have one, too?”

"Probably, but it wasn't anything my dear uncle would share with me, if he had discovered it," he said nonchalantly. "Snoke figured that I had a mind for languages– a good guess, given that my parents were a senator and a con man. Wordsmiths, both of them. Writing was a form of meditation. He believed it might give me a deeper spiritual connection to the Dark Side."   
  
He shrugged. "I never really learned it in context. I just wrote it. I have my uncle to thank for that particular skill." He gestured vaguely to the notebook. "I did more today with my dominant hand. It probably looks better."

She flipped through the journal to see the newer pages. The handwriting had improved, but her name continued to appear.    
  
“The only other language I really know is Teedospeak, but I never learned how to write it,” she mused absently.    
  
Rey was quiet for a while, her eyes following the loops and falls of her name in these strange and beautiful alphabets.    
  
“How many languages do you know?” she asked, genuine curiosity tingeing her voice and sparking in her hazel eyes as she looked back up at him.

"Only bits and pieces of a few. None fluently. Not anymore, at least.” He shot her an amused glance. "Though I understand more Shyriiwook than I can speak."   
  
“I’m still impressed,” she said. “Do you have a favorite? Can you teach me some words?” Her eagerness radiated off of her in waves.

"Favorite?" he asked with a chuckle. "My favorite is the one I remember when I need to use it."    
  
He stared past Rey, considering. "I can't say I really like Huttese. It's not as melodic as some. Doesn't leave a good feeling in the mouth."   
  
He turned his gaze on her, smiling. "But I do like the languages with the most terms of endearment. Affectionate languages. The Mandalorians aren't known for being particularly loving, but they do have some beautiful sayings."

She blushed, peeking up at him through her lashes.    
  
"Oh?" she said coyly. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you've got a very poorly hidden romantic side."

He let out an exhalation of mock disgust.   
  
"You actually think I have a romantic side," he muttered.

She snorted, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you of the time that you stole me away and dressed me up just to take me to a ball?”

“I hired a mercenary to extract you so we could negotiate an exchange of classified intelligence,” he said in his best imitation of Hux. “I see nothing romantic about it.”   
  
She rolled her eyes with a bemused smile. They were quiet for a long, comfortable moment. 

"I don't think I've ever met a Mandalorian, so I don't really know what the language sounds like," she mumbled to herself, flipping over another page of unfamiliar alphabets.   
  
He reached out his pale arm from under his cloak and took her hand again. "I admit I don't know much Mando'a, but I like what I know," he said. "It is a little harsh to some, but I like how it sounds. It's very breathy, I think."   
  
He laced his fingers through hers as he tried to remember the old phrases.   
  
"Mhi solus tome, cyar'ika," he murmured, savoring the softness, the power of the words as they glided off his tongue. His mind brushed hers, a translation:   
  
_ We are one together, my darling. _   
  
"Mhi solus dhar'tome."   
  
_ We are one when parted _ .

Her breath caught in her throat, stuttering around her heart. The foreign words in his deep voice slipped like a spell into her ear and uncoiled in her mind, transfixing her utterly.   
  
"That's beautiful..." she murmured hazily, her eyes finding his.    
  
She squeezed his hand gently.   
  
"...do you mean that?"

Rey came back to herself after a moment of silence, his gaze too intent to bear. She gave a small smile that didn’t really reach her eyes and let his hand go, returning to the journal with what she hoped appeared to be renewed interest.    
  
She didn’t know why she asked it, suddenly feeling foolish and moon-eyed. What answer had she even hoped for?

Ben had frozen, his exhausted brain scanning every language he knew for the right words, but before he could remember how to say  _ yes, he meant it, yes, he was hers, no, he would never lie to her, not in any of the different tongues he half-remembered _ , she pulled away.   
  
His empty hand still grasped for hers, now occupied with flipping to the next page in the journal, a diagram he had drawn earlier that day of his TIE Silencer, carefully sketched with his dominant hand still in the sling.   
  
He thrust his good hand out and covered the page, a sudden rush of emotions – anger, sorrow, longing – seizing him.   
  
"I could say it in every language I know, and it would be just as true, but I know it won't be as powerful as saying it in Basic."   
  
He cast the journal aside and took her hand again: a plea.

"I know I tried to say it last time and failed. I've struggled to explain myself and have only been able to when I know I've made a mess of things and have had to apologize. And I don't want to do that anymore."   
  
He paused.   
  
"I know I will, but I don't want to. I want to be honest with you as much as I can, and I don't intend to lie to you, but I don't know how to show you who I am, because...I don't know who that is, either." His voice dropped to a soft murmur.   
  
"Since I crashed here, I've been trying to figure that out, and it's not easy. I saw a glimpse of who I wanted to be in the rain the other day, but I don't know how to be that all the time."   
  
He wanted to look away, embarrassed, but he was caught in her hazel eyes, warm in the soft glow of the candledroid.   
  
"I still have the Darkness in me. It's always been a part of me, just as the Light will always be there, no matter how much I try to bury or destroy it. But with you...I feel it. And I love that Light."   
  
He brought her hand under his cape to his rest against his chest, right above his heart, beating rapidly and fretfully beneath her fingertips.   
  
"I love you, Rey," he said. "I wish I had said it on Canto Bight, but I was so afraid of what it meant. To say that...before I let you go, I saw no other way out. I couldn't let myself admit it, even though I had all but told you that I loved you. And I suffered for it, as you did."   
  
He exhaled, his heartbeat erratic.   
  
"I'm sorry I brought us this low."

He had scarcely finished his sentence when Rey’s lips met his, her free hand coming to rest on his cheek. Her kiss was soft, tender...loving.    
  
_ I love you, Ben Solo _ , she whispered into his mind, pressing closer to the warmth and desperate flutter of his heart.  _ For all your shadows, all your broken parts, all your light. _   
  
She pulled back gently and rested her forehead against his, breathing softly as her thumb brushed across his cheekbone.

He was suddenly very dizzy.   
  
Joy. He had forgotten the sensation.   
  
His breath came out in short pants. He had forgotten to breathe. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.   
  
"I love you, Rey," he whispered, voice flooding the small space between them. "For everything you are."

She kissed him again, hard and fast, willing him to feel every inch of her feelings for him as she held his face in her hands. If she had been told she was loved before, she didn’t remember. The words of affection, adoration, unconditional acceptance were foreign. Beautiful.   
  
“I love you, Ben,” she murmured against his lips. “I love you.”

He exhaled, a strange hybrid of a sob and a laugh, and wrapped his arm around her, trying to bridge the space between them, engulfing the two of them in his cape as he did so.   
  
He was still learning how to love, but it came naturally to him when she was near. He knew this, at least, beyond a doubt: he could not let her go again.

She hummed soothingly into his neck, content to be wrapped up in the warmth and shelter of this man. She could feel his heart beating straight through his chest into hers. The hard muscle of his arm was trapped between them, slung up against his stomach, but she could feel him wriggling to free the limb to try to reach as much of her as he could.

He bunched her shirt in his hand, holding onto her dearly. He wanted to feel her, feel everything in this moment, let the calm and acceptance fill him in the places where sorrow had lingered for so long.   
  
He had gained more than he lost in the crash, he realized. He was strangely grateful for his brokenness. He only wished he could be closer to her, feel her flush against him, secure in his embrace. Even with the modicum of mobility that the sling provided, he couldn’t quite get his bad arm around her without his shoulder protesting. That was the curse of his mangled body: he wanted her, but could only get so close.   
  
She remembered the last time he’d held her this way. Her eyes closed to the sound of the rushing ocean of Cantonica, the smell of salt water and Ben wrapping around her in a protective cocoon. It was the last time she’d felt this safe, this wanted, this loved. She wished she could give that to Ben.    
  
Sitting up a bit, but still tucked close in his grip, she pulled back to look at him as she brushed a lock of dark hair out of his face.    
  
“You should get some rest, Ben,” she whispered, letting her fingers rake over his scalp. “You’ve been up for too long.”

Rey’s fingers delicately traced the mark she’d left on his face. Despite the pain it had caused, she couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty about the scar. It was as much a part of her as it was of him. 

He closed his eyes as her fingers moved across his skin. He would always be marked by her; his body bore the signs of their conflict so long ago. His skin was a tapestry of scars, many of her making.    
  
He wore her anger and fear on his face, just as clearly as he often wore his own pain. He knew he had been poorly deceiving himself; he couldn't have forgotten her if her tried. She was a part of him.   
  
He closed his eyes, enjoying her soothing fingers in his scalp.  
  
"I want to see you," he said softly, sorrowfully. "I want to spend time with you here. I...I waited all day."

She smiled gently and laid a soft kiss on the spot where her scar crossed his eyebrow.    
  
“I know, love,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He left a quick kiss on her neck, his hand reaching for her side.   
  
"How's the bruising?"

“It’s alright, still a bit sore. I put a fresh bacta patch on a few hours ago,” she said.    
  
She puffed a little laugh.    
  
“I’m almost afraid to ask how you’re doing, since you’ve been up for a day straight.”

"Not a whole day," he said, mumbling into her shoulder. "Though you’re probably not far off.”  
  
His eyes lingered on her neck, on the bare skin of her chest, a warm golden glow in the soft light.   
  
"I fell asleep a few times and then woke up again and kept watch. I can generally guess the time by the light, but I can't tell how quickly or slowly it passes."    
  
He looked up at her shyly.    
  
"It feels very slow when you're not around."

She smiled and rubbed affectionately at the tense spot at the base of his skull.    
  
“You didn’t answer my question, Ben,” she prodded gently. “How are you feeling?”

He closed his eyes and let out a relaxed groan, one that sounded far hungrier than he had intended.    
  
"I feel like I want to kiss you and never stop," he said, his voice low and rough. 

He paused, then opened one eye. "I'm in pain still. And very tired, but you know that."

She hummed deep in her throat, a sound halfway between a purr and a moan.    
  
“As tempting as kissing you and never stopping sounds, and I am going to take you up on that at some point, I’m more concerned about you being tired and in pain,” she said.    
  
She nudged him gently.    
  
“Come on, love, lie down for a little while,” she coaxed. “It’s my turn to keep watch.”

He relinquished his hold on her, if only to shift his hand to rest on her lower back, keeping her close in his orbit.   
  
"What about you? Did they let you sleep?” he asked. "I'd feel guilty if they worked you hard and then you run yourself ragged taking care of me."

She made a face like she was trying not to smile, but her eyes were dancing.    
  
“I’m fine, I promise,” she said.    
  
She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.    
  
“I fell asleep during meditation today,” she snickered.

He let his fingers curl and uncurl with delight against her back.    
  
"Oh?" he asked. "Did you have good dreams?"

She nipped at his earlobe.    
  
“That’s for me to know and you to extrapolate from,” she said evenly.

"Tell me about them," he murmured. "And maybe I'll go to sleep for you."   
  
She pulled back and arched an eyebrow down at him.    
  
“Lie down and maybe I’ll tell you,” she haggled.

"You are not a fair negotiator," he grumbled, removing his warmth from around her and returning his arm under his cape.

“And you are a terrible patient,” she retorted. “Do you need help?”   
  
He waved her off.   
  
"I can do this part," he said as he tried to drag himself back over to the pallet.    
  
He underestimated how exhausted and stiff he was from his vigil, and it sent a shockwave of pain through his body by twisting back towards his bed.

“Ben!” she scolded, immediately coming to his side. “Kriffing hells, are you trying to re-break yourself?”   
  
She rose to her knees and came to brace against his right side help him the rest of the way across the room. It was a bit awkward to maneuver, but eventually they made it.

He reached up with his left hand and unpinned his cape, pulling it away from him. Falling back against his bed, he let out a defeated groan.    
  
"You know, I put on a brave face, but I miss the little things, like moving independently," he mumbled. He let his eyes fall on his legs, large and mostly exposed. He hadn’t been given the luxury of considering his attire or lack thereof for several days, until now, as he felt Rey’s eyes wander the expanse of his blotchy, bruised skin.   
  
"And the dignity of being clothed."

She sat down by his head, propping herself up against the wall.    
  
“I did give you that option,” she said with a shrug. “Here, lift your head up.”

"Yes, and you missed me trying to dress myself while you looked through my journal," he said, complying with her demand. "It didn’t go well."

She moved his head onto her lap.    
  
“There,” she said gently. “How’s that?”

He closed his eyes, a blessed peace crossing his features. He felt her thigh beneath his head, strong and muscular yet soft and comfortable. The Force was a gentle hum against his skull. He felt a deep contentment pooling in his chest. He could stay like this indefinitely.    
  
"Lovely," he said. "You're not joining me?"

She brushed his hair back from his forehead.    
  
“Someone’s got to keep you safe,” she murmured.

He closed his eyes slowly, letting her comforting presence wash over him.   
  
"Thank you," he whispered, summoning his blanket to cover his legs. "Now, are you going to tell me your dreams?"

She blushed lightly.    
  
“No. You’d probably be disappointed,” she mumbled, combing her fingers through his hair. “It really wasn’t much of anything. Mostly sensations, not so much images. Hands...lips...someone touching me...”  _ Someone whispering to me... _

He inhaled sharply, she felt his body heat spike through the fabric of her pants. 

“Nothing much, really. Besides, it was just a dream, it doesn’t matter.”

She paused thoughtfully, her thumb smoothing over his forehead. 

“But I can tell you something true instead. It’ll be a better bedtime story anyway.”

He sighed roughly, his plans frustrated.    
  
“Something true? Alright, then,” he said, settling in on her lap, falling into a trance from her hands on his head.

With a great gust of breath that somehow managed to sound self-conscious, Rey held up her end of the bargain.

"I didn't have a lot on Jakku," she began. "Not a lot of room for sentimentality in the desert. If you had possessions, they needed to be useful; a cup, a plate, clothes to keep you cool during the day but warm at night, soap. But I had a few things, trinkets, really. The kind of garbage that no one would want." She smiled nostalgically. "But they were my treasures…”   
  
His eyes slid shut, and he smiled, remember the memories he had glimpsed in her head once before, then sorrowful, now through a happier lens.

"When I was a kid, I found this battered old X-Wing pilot's helmet. There was a name written on it: Captain Dosmit Ræh.”   


“Ræh?” he repeated. “What a coincidence.”

She smiled and continued.  
  
“I was so fascinated by it and the person who wore it...I made myself a little rag doll out of scraps I found and named her Captain Ræh. We would go on adventures together, exploring the AT-AT, fighting off steelpeckers and nightwatcher worms, saving the galaxy. She liked spinebarrel flowers, so I always tried to keep some around." She chuckled. "We did everything together...it sounds pathetic, I know, but she was my only friend. And she'd already been dead for years before I was even born.”   
  
“Still, she sounds like a better friend than most,” h e said, a genuine tenderness in his voice.

Her smile faltered. 

"If there's one thing I regret, it's that I left everything behind when I found BB-8 and Finn," she said quietly. "I left Jakku with nothing but the clothes on my back and the staff in my hand. I wish I could've at least rescued Captain Ræh. She didn't deserve to be left behind all alone." 

She seemed to look straight through the wall ahead of her, her fingers stilling momentarily and her eyes glazing over.

"I will never set foot on that junkyard again," she swore in a low voice. 

Then her face softened again, a smile spreading across her lips. "But I still collect plants. In Captain Ræh's memory, and probably because you can't take the scavenger out of me. My bunk back at base has a little window, and the whole sill is almost covered in plants. Whenever I visit a new p lanet, I try to find a little plant to take back with me." She laughed then, soft and bright. "Soon I'll have my very own forest..."

She cast a glance down at Ben. "Nowhere near as interesting as illicit dreams during meditation, but I hope it didn’t put you to sleep. ”   
  
“No, I’m still here,” he said quietly. “I think Captain  Ræh would be proud of you. You made it off that rock. You’ve accomplished so much.”   
  
He opened his eyes to regard her, his gaze intent but kind.   
  
“If she was as good a friend as you say, she’d want the best for you,” he said. “I’m sure she understands.”

He reached out his good arm until he could find one of her hands. He held it softly in his. 

"You are loved, Rey," he said. "You are wanted. You won't be alone again, I swear."   
  
“I know, Ben,” she whispered.    
  
She squeezed his fingers.    
  
"You are going to leave after I fall asleep, correct?" he asked.  
  
His words seemed like a plea, but his eyes were harder, more determined; he was commanding her to go back to base, lest she get caught again.

Her face softened.    
  
“I’m going to try to scout around a bit for a better place to stay,” she said, her thumb continuing its gentle path across his skin. “But I’ll try to be back by sundown.”

He lifted her hand and brought it close to his mouth, kissing it.   
  
"That's for the best," he said, resolute. He was struggling to pretend he wasn't bored or lonely without her in the dull little hut, but it couldn't last forever. Even if she found him a new hiding place, he would be healed soon, and they would be able to advance their plans. He couldn't imagine they would stay on this rock forever, so the next challenge would be seeing how Rey could help him escape. She had already likely deceived everyone she trusted in order to protect him; what was one more thing?   
  
He believed in her, and he knew what she felt for him was as strong and firm and real as the hand in his. But he was not sure he saw a way forward like she did.

She could sense his apprehension thrumming in the Force like a hard-shelled insect, clicking and buzzing. He was trying so hard to do the right thing, the responsible thing. They both wished that she didn’t have to go; the thought of leaving him now, after all of their revelations, cut Rey’s soul. He was trying to keep her safe again, even if it hurt him.    
  
She interlaced their fingers and rested their clasped hands over his heart.    
  
“I hate leaving you alone out here,” she whispered. “I never want you to feel the way I did in the desert.”

He smiled weakly.   
  
"I'll never feel that way, cyar'ika," he said. "I know you won't leave me, unless there is no other way."   
  
He let out a deep chuckle.   
  
"And even then, you will still fight like hell."

She squeezed his hand.    
  
“You’re damn right I will,” she swore.    
  
She didn’t know where the future was going to take them, but she would make sure that she would keep him safe. She was quiet for a while, drifting in and out of her thoughts.    
  
“You call me ‘cyar’ika,’” she mused. “But I don’t have a word for you...”

He thought of all the terms of endearment he had heard growing up, and quickly remembered that nothing exchanged between his parents would likely be applicable in his circumstances. Neither “your worshipfulness” or “scoundrel” seemed fitting. But there were few other names he knew.

Kylo Ren was born at night. That was the night he saw Snoke, the shadow from his dreams, his nightmares, landing not far from the fire. The fire and ash were unrecognizable as the remains of the temple his uncle had built. He barely processed the strange humanoid creature in front of him with the scarred visage, lit by the flames, real for the first time. His eyes were wide but unseeing. He couldn’t process what had happened. It was as if everything was a holo, something witnessed, not experienced. This was happening to someone else. His lightsaber, still ignited, was in his trembling hands, his legs shaking with every step. Adrenaline, or something else.   
  
Ben Solo vanished at night. He had gone to bed for the last time in a white sleep shirt, his dreams serene for the first time in recent memory. He woke to a nightmare.   
  
Deactivating his blue blade, he sunk to his knees before Snoke slowly, clumsily. He lowered his head and offered the hilt to the towering figure before him.   
  
Kylo Ren rose to his feet moments later, wearing a tattered sleep shirt, the white fabric stained with ash and blood, feet bare and bloodied from a fight he barely remembered, the dirt on his cheeks streaked with tears.   


Kylo, master of the Knights of Ren. Snoke’s apprentice. Jedi Killer. So he became known.  
  
So he was until he stood in the turbolift on the Supremacy, the deactivated weapon of the Jedi again in his hands.   
  
Ben Solo, lost so long ago in the ashes of Skywalker’s temple, returned at the sound of his name, called gently from the lips a beautiful young scavenger. Not a scavenger. A Jedi. 

A Jedi calling the Jedi killer from the darkness, healing his wounds, keeping him safe, coaxing him to sleep.

“Just call me Ben,” he said finally. “It feels so...loving when you say it. Like I belong with you.”

Her heart clenched and she smiled.    
  
“Then I will call you Ben until my breath leaves me,” she murmured.   
  
“I love you,” he whispered groggily, his breath slowing, his eyes falling shut. Her smile was the last thing he saw.

When she was certain that Ben was fast asleep, she gently extricated herself from him, laying his head on the old pillow and untangling their fingers. She smiled softly at his peaceful expression, his even breath, the shadows of his lashes against his cheekbones; she could watch him sleep all night, if it was possible.    
  
Quietly, she dug through her pack for the supplies she’d brought for him: some ration packs and a full canteen, a fresh piece of graphite, an old gray undershirt from the “unclaimed laundry” bin, and a little round Jogan fruit she’d squirreled away from breakfast. She formed a little pile within arms reach for when he woke up, setting the purple and white fruit at the very top.    
  
With a flick, she called the journal back to her. She flipped through each page slowly, running her fingers over the permutations of her name in all the ways Ben knew how to write it. Her heart skipped a beat and she thumbed past the writings. The sketch of his TIE Silencer appeared, executed in shaky but thorough detail. She could tell that this was more than a ship to him; maybe he was more like his father than he thought, she mused. The next page had a diagram, painstakingly exact, of his lightsaber and how it was assembled. She grinned; he was trying to help her repair her own saber, a task which had been running circles around her for the past few months. Her eyes flicked up to him briefly, wishing he could know how much that meant to her.    
  
What she found after that nearly stopped her heart entirely. It was the ballroom of Shwa’rarth’s manor, albeit a rough sketch; Ben’s drawing talent was obviously in technical diagrams, not scenery. But he had scribbled in two tiny, faintly human shapes on the staircase; one very tall, the other with a soft trail of smoke flowing out behind it. Biting back fond tears, she flipped the next page. It was the beach they had slept on that night; deeply shadowed, with a white moon hanging low and full on the horizon and casting a shining trail along the surface of the water. And at the shoreline, merely a faint outline but unmistakably human, was her; this time not a smudge on paper, but a spot of brightness on an otherwise shaded page. This was what he had seen of her that night, a luminous being, a point of light in the darkness.    
  
The next page was blank, so she took up the graphite stick and scribbled a note onto it, quietly tearing the paper out of the book and laying it beside him on the pallet. As she looked down at her sleeping Ben, she poured out into the Force around him all the love she could muster. She brushed her lips against his, feather-light, and whispered her love into his ear.    
  
Then she turned off the light, pulled on her pack, and was gone, stealing out into the night with a far-away moon shining in her soul.

  
  


Ben woke hours later, alone in the dark hut. Rey's presence still lingered like wisps of smoke after a fire was put out. His heart felt a small pang of sorrow; he could not know when he would see her again, and the longing and boredom would drive him mad if we wasn't careful.   
  
Shifting over, a strange shadow caught the corner of his eye, and he lifted and switched on the candledroid.    
  
Rey had left him a small pile of gifts. Rations, of course, and more clothes, and — a small blessing — fresh fruit. He smiled weakly, but then saw the small paper sitting on top of the pile. He grabbed it, and looked carefully at the note Rey had left for him in her own childish Aurebesh.   
  


_ Ben, my love, _ _  
_ _  
_ _ I hope the morning finds you well. I'll be thinking of you until I get back. Don't re-break anything while I'm gone. _ _  
_

_ I love you.  
  
_ _ Your Rey _   
  
He laughed, resisting the urge to trace every letter in turn with his thumb.    
  
He jerked away suddenly.   
  
He felt a pulse in the Force.   
  
He turned off the candledroid quickly.   
  
The speeders passed in the next second. Resistance, clearly. They were not immediately outside, but they were far too close. He could feel them hunting.   
  
They were looking for him.   
  
He froze, calling the staff to his hand.   
  
They did not pass by again.   
  
He did not return to sleep until well after dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest TheLady and I ever spent editing a chapter. I'm saying like, 4 hours minimum. Thanks to [SaturnineFeline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturnineFeline/pseuds/SaturnineFeline) for helping us through the rut.
> 
> I am a slut for adorable Solo family moments.
> 
> Editor's note: You really are.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We will have time, Ben,” she whispered as she pulled away. “We will. I swear. I can’t let you go again. Not after this.”

The Resistance clearly wanted to make up for Rey’s day off, as they had a number of tasks prepared for her that sent her darting all over Takodana’s lush surface. 

After running diagnostics on several challenging speeders -- all tests indicating that their biggest faults could be attributed to general age -- and assisting with a parts inventory, Rey was sent to forage for parts from another downed First Order ship that had been discovered by scouts on the other side of the lake, a considerable trek across the planet. Bidding farewell to Finn and Poe after lunch, Rey mounted her speeder and took off for the ship, relishing the feeling of the wind washing over her as she soared through the endless forests and hills.

She made several detours before arriving to the crash site, stopping anywhere that appeared as if it could provide a comfortable hideout for Ben, but to no avail. After shoving whatever she could salvage from the TIE into the nets on either side of the speeder bike (with some difficulty-- she missed having the fabric wraps around her body to scale the craft, but they were getting much better use as Ben’s medical supplies), she took a different route back to base, flying around the other side of the lake. She scanned the forest and feeling into the Force for anywhere that felt like a safe place to stop and hunt for a temporary home.

She passed the ruins of Maz’s castle, her first view of a world beyond Jakku, beyond even Niima outpost. Her gut clenched. She remembered what she had seen there.   
  
She paused her speeder, hovering near the castle ruins. The Force had been strong here.    
  
There had to be something close by, somewhere for Ben to hide.   
  
She returned to base just as the sun was beginning to set, breathless and eager and beaming as she strode into the hangar.    
  
She knew just the place.

  
  
The sun slipped below the horizon, shrouding the forest in ever-growing shadows. Ben waited.   
  
He had been waiting all day, but he had been patient during the daylight hours. As the darkness grew around him, he became irritable, anticipation crushing him.

He had occupied his day attempting to rehabilitate his body. He was feeling better, a long rest finally allowing him some relief from the aches that plagued him, but rather than crawling first, like many bipedal creature, he was desperate to get back on his feet and run. However, his first challenge was to get dressed. The weather hadn't been as humid as it had been before it rained, but he dedicated a not inconsiderable portion of the morning to unwrapping his sling and getting his undershirt on without disturbing his sore shoulder. 

He enjoyed the illusion of independence in the sling's absence, but rotating his right arm past a certain range still sent shocks of pain down his clavicle and through to his fingertips, so he didn't try to push it after that. As the afternoon went on and the cabin grew cooler, he wrangled his legs into the coveralls one at a time. There was a slight battle to get his rigid left leg through the pant leg of the jumpsuit, but after continuous shifting, he managed to slide the suit up over his hips, tying off the arms around his waist as Rey liked to do.   
  
After finishing off the Jogan fruit with some satisfaction, he waited in the dark for hours, until he felt the familiar presence as it drew near her.   
  
He could feel her entering the surrounding clearing, and was sitting up eagerly when she entered.   
  
"Su cuy'gar, cyar'ika," he said, smiling.  _ I see you’re still alive, sweetheart. _

The Mandalorians had a funny way of greeting others, he reflected.

Rey grinned at him, flicking on the candledroid with a twitch of her head.    
  
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Ben," she said, kneeling beside him to peck his cheek.    
  
She finally got a good look at him, her expression bemused.   
  
"You're dressed! How'd you manage--" She arched an eyebrow, suddenly stern. "--to slip your sling?"   
  
She exhaled, exasperated but affectionate. "What am I going to do with you," she sighed.

His right hand, resting across his stomach, tilted up in a gesture of confusion as his left shoulder shrugged.   
  
"I was hoping you'd be impressed that I'm now clothed, but I guess exasperation works too," he said with a chuckle. "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm very impressed," she retorted. "I do however recall leaving strict instructions for you not to re-break yourself while I was gone."    
  
She smiled, reaching up to wipe away a smudge of purple fruit juice at the corner of his mouth.    
  
"I see you enjoyed the Jogan?" she teased lightly.   
  
She inspected her thumb with an amused look before putting it in her mouth, licking the digit clean with a pleased hum.

He was about to protest that he hadn't rebroken anything in the course of the day, but had merely dented his injured form, but he was absolutely stumped by her sudden boldness.    
  
His mouth hung open agape for a second before something switched in his head.

He should have known. The scavenger was not wasting a drop.   
  
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in tight against him, and kissed her, passionately and hungrily, before leaving a frantic trail of kisses down her jaw. He pressed his lips firmly against her neck, burying his face in her shoulder, and breathing deeply of the earthy scent of her hair.

She squeaked in shock at the sudden shift of her position, but the sound quickly morphed into a breathy little moan as his mouth moved against her skin.    
  
"I missed you too," she gasped, twining an arm around his neck.

He placed several rough kisses against the strong muscles in her throat.    
  
"Good," he growled, and he brushed his teeth against her skin. "Because I have waited all day to do this."

She grasped at his hair, tugging his face away from her neck so she could kiss him. These were not the shy and tentative caresses of their previous encounters. Her kiss was harder, deeper, as if some dark part of her insides wanted to consume him. She didn't have the willpower to deny that little shard of wickedness, especially when his arm was around her and the heat of him was so intoxicating.

He let his hand rest on her hip and his tongue slip eagerly into her mouth. He wanted her to know the ache he felt for her, and he wanted to ease the ache he knew lived in her.    
  
Remembering the speeders from early in the morning, he felt the danger of their current situation. But he couldn't have enough of her. The urge to taste, to touch was consuming him.

His eyes met hers, her pupils large in the dim room, her gaze full of adoration. He wanted to be worthy of it. He let his thumb brush along her hip. He wanted to please her.

He leaned over to murmur in her ear, his lips brushing the skin. "Gedet'ye,” he said in a throaty whisper.   
  
_ Please _ .

She whimpered, that wicked little piece of her thrumming with anticipation. Moving carefully so as not to further agitate his injuries, she rose onto her knees and swung her leg over his hips. She looked down at him with her hand balanced on his intact shoulder, her eyes hungry, waiting for his reaction and praying that she hadn't gone too far.

He examined her face, his own displaying a look of complete awe. Her hips around his made him feel more intact than he had in ages.    
  
Never looking away from her, he carefully brought his right hand first back to his side, locking his elbow under his ribs for support, then brought his fingers to rest on the back of her thigh. His left hand rested on the dip of her waist, holding her in place before him.   
  
He bit his lips, choking down the eagerness welling up within him.   
  
This was like his best dreams, and yet here Rey was, real beneath his hands.   
  
He pulled her in close, and kissed her slowly, deeply, breathing her in and holding her in his lungs.    
  
He forgot his aches. He was whole.

"Easy, love," she murmured against his lips, his hands burning through her clothes. "I don't want to hurt you..."

He responded by a coded message; first kissing her deeply,  _ I adore you _ , nuzzling her neck, _  I want you _ , then lighting his lips on the side of her neck and biting down as hard as he dared.  _ I need you _ .

“Ben...” she keened. That was going to bruise.

He dug his fingers into her leg, demanding.   
  
_ You can't hurt me _ , he thought, sending a laugh through to her.  _ Not unless you really tried. _

She slipped her hand under the neck of his shirt, the wide span of his muscled back smooth and taut under her searching fingers.    
  
_ Trying to mark me as well?  _ she hummed in his mind.  _ Careful, someone might notice it _ ...

He nipped her where he had bitten down, and moved to give her rough kisses along the base of her neck.   
  
_ Why don't I mark you where they can't see _ , he purred.

" _ R’iia _ , please," she groaned, digging her nails into his shoulder blades.    
  
She was quickly losing herself to the sensation of his mouth on her skin, a thin growth of stubble from the last few days rasping against her throat. The rational part of her brain had been beaten back into a corner and it mentioned something about needing to be alert because of the renewed patrols in the area. The rest of her brain was electing to ignore that little nugget of sense, too far gone in pleasure and other sensations to worry about anything besides the man underneath her.

He took her moan of wanting as an affirmative, and moved his mouth down her neck to leave wet kisses along the collar of her shirt. His right hand slid up her thigh, enjoying her strong leg muscles beneath his fingertips. Enjoying her control over him.   
  
_ I will mark you as mine where only you and I can see _ , he growled, his voice bellowing in her mind.  _ I claim you _ .

_ I’m yours _ , she gasped. She ran her fingernail down the line of her scar from his jaw down his neck.    
  
_ And you are mine _ , she growled in return.

In that breathless moment, he felt proud of the scars dotting his skin, the undeniable marks of her. She called him hers. She branded him, and continued to do so as she sunk her nails on his back.

_ I belong to you _ , he thought.  _ For tonight and every night _ .   
  
He was glad in this moment for the clothing she had provided; he couldn't conceal his arousal straining at the front of the flight suit, and he knew Rey could feel it. Had he been as indisposed as he had been following his bath several days prior, he wasn't sure he would have been able to maintain the same restraint he was demonstrating now.   
  
A pause followed as he focused his attention on the small patch of skin over her sternum, his tongue teasing under the collar of her shirt, skating over the skin at the top of her breastband.   
  
Rey moaned softly at the path he was taking down her chest. 

_ Right now, I'm yours to handle as you wish _ .

His hand on her thigh was massaging her flesh enticingly and she could feel herself slipping deeper into him, her hips seeking out the heat and hardness beneath her.    
  
When she found it,  _ stars _ . The friction was exquisite. Still trying to mind his leg, she ground down on him, chasing the electricity that was blossoming between her legs.

She could not easily identify the languages of the swears he uttered into her chest as he felt her press into him, releasing a wave of ecstasy he didn't know he had longed for.    
  
She was so close to him, exploring him through layers of fabric. He wanted to strip that away. He would take the pains for that pleasure.

" _ Cyar'ika _ ," he groaned, slipping his hand down into her jumpsuit and bunching the waistband of her underwear in his fist. His grip urged her to continue rocking her hips over his, savoring the heat that threatened to consume them both.

The sounds that bubbled up from her throat didn’t sound like her, but the heat of his hand on her hip and his words pressed against her breastbone were drawing a kind of madness out of her.    
  
“ _ R’iia _ , I’ve wanted to do this for days,” she whimpered as she dragged her core against him. 

Hearing that she had wanted this intimacy as badly as he had sent a shock of arousal through his body, and, despite the protests of his sides, he arched his hips to press himself against her.   
  
She shifted her angle just so, and the sensation sent her crying forward, sinking her teeth into the base of his neck.

His gasp rattled both of them as her mouth met his throat, and he jerked back, sending a shock of pain through his broken clavicle. Despite the pain, the jolts of pleasure coming from his erection seemed overpowering, and his right fingers snaked to her buttocks, drawing her in closer to him, and holding her over their core.

Rey was blinded by pleasure and desire and she could barely breathe as she tried to straighten up, her hips rocking faster. She grabbed his face in her hands and attacked his mouth, dying for another taste of him.    
  
_ Ben Ben Ben Ben _ ... she chanted helplessly in her head.

The sensations of her through the Force was overpowering; he was becoming blinded by their shared yearning as their thoughts blended together.   
  
He melted into her touch, feeling the mantra of his name as if her voice was pulsing through his bloodstream.   
  
He began one of his own to the motion of their hips.   
  
_ Rey. Cyar'ika. Ma Sareen. My darling. My love _ .   
  
He strained to meet her hungry mouth and to hold on to her as she writhed above him. He was sweating with the effort, but he ignored the pain. His single-minded focus was to bring her as much pleasure as possible; he wouldn't let his weakness show.

The threads binding them tugged. Rey broke away from Ben’s mouth to breathe.    


She slowed the roll of her hips a fraction; something was off.    
  
“Ben?” she gasped.

When she had pulled away, Rey had shifted just enough that Ben was leaning on his left leg to support her body on his. The pain that rippled through his body caused his vision to go blurry. He would not cry out. Not now, not when he had her so close. He had practiced his silence in the face of pain for so long it was second nature. He would be strong for her.

However stoic he remained, his pain jolted through the threads of their bond. It took her breath away, in a very different way than it had been taken a few minutes ago.    
  
“Oh gods, Ben,” she whispered, panicking. 

Instantly she pulled back, trying to extricate herself from his grip.

She shifted her weight further onto his leg, but despite a pulse of agony in the Force, he said nothing. He clenched his teeth and let out a hiss.   


Sensing his distress, she lifted onto her knees as far from his leg as she could manage, her hands coming up to smooth the hair away from his damp forehead.   
  
"I'm so sorry, love," she murmured, guilt clawing at her throat and making her eyes prick. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

The pain ebbed quickly as she moved away, and he buried his face in his broad hand. He didn't want her to see him breaking down, but he had to fight the hot, mortified tears that threatened to force their way down his face.

He could almost hear Snoke's voice taunting him. 

_ You're not a man _ .

He was a boy, a broken boy too weak for her. She had wanted him, and he had not been enough for her. He had disappointed her, failed the woman he loved with his frailty.

He turned away silently. He couldn't let her see him.

"Ben?" she said, her voice cracking. 

She tugged at his hand, trying to pull his eyes back to hers. 

Breathing was becoming difficult, her lungs only allowing shallow amounts of air in as she panicked. The bond was stretching painfully; he was pulling away, closing himself off. She did this. She had been selfish and careless and stupid, a slave to her desires and the Darkness inside her. It was too soon, too sudden, to rash. It was her fault that he was hurting. She just got him back and now she was going to lose him again.

"I'm sorry, love," she whimpered as her own tears threatened to spill over. "I-I didn't mean to, please don't go away. Please, Ben, I love you, come back..."

Her hand on his sent a desperate bolt of sadness through the Force, a shot that pierced through the Darkness clouding his heart.

She was hurting too. She had wanted him, and his rejection, his inward retreat hurt her just as much, if not more than his broken bones.

He let his hand be lifted from his eyes so she could see the humiliation written on his face. He, in turn, saw the anguish in her own gentle countenance. 

"No, no, no, Rey, I'm here, okay?"

There was no memory he could use to hide behind. He had to conjure new words to express himself. To help her. He cupped her cheek in his palm.

"You were wonderful," he said slowly, choosing every word with the utmost care. "Everything you are...you're perfect."

He had to sniffle to clear the lump in his throat. More mortification.

"I know you didn’t hurt me on purpose. I love learning your body, and I want you to know mine. I didn't want you to stop because..." 

He took a deep breath, trying to focus his eyes on hers.

"I want to please you, to erase all of the misery I’ve caused you. But I can't do that. I am too weak and broken to give you what you need. I have loved you for so long, but I can't  _ love _ you, Rey. Not like I want, and not like you deserve. And I am ashamed of myself for it."

She leaned into his hand, letting his warmth soak into her pores, banishing the cold anxiety that had flooded her bones. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Holding his hand to her cheek, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," she said fiercely. "Nothing. You are not weak. And even if you are broken, you certainly didn't let that stop you from making me feel..." She sighed. "...absolutely incredible."

She pulled back to look him in the eye, her free hand resting on his scarred cheek.

"I want you, Ben," she said in a low voice. "I want you with every cell in my body. But I would rather wait if it meant that you wouldn't be in unnecessary pain.  _ That _ is what I want."

He met her forgiving eyes, savoring their warmth for a moment before swallowing the lump in his throat. He let himself flash her a brief smile.

"I want you, too. With everything I am. But how much time do we have, Rey?" he said, his throat suddenly tight, constricted. "I know the Resistance is looking for me. I hear the speeders every day. And even if they don't find me, I know you will have to leave soon." 

He buried his face in her hand.

"I'm stronger than I was, and I could probably survive here given shelter and time to rehabilitate myself. But then what? Am I to live here forever, the undead Supreme Leader hiding in the woods and waiting for your visits whenever you can sneak away from your missions? Will you even be able to return?"

She flinched at his sudden use of the title. He blinked, and swallowed down more tears.

"I love you, Rey, and I am afraid that every time I see you might be our last time together," he said quietly. "I want us...I want to share myself with you. While we have this chance."

He was right. She had been woefully short-sighted in this little charade of theirs. 

She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, pouring her love into the caress. 

_ I refuse to let any time with you be the last time _ .  _ No matter what happens, I will always come back to you. _

“We will have time, Ben,” she whispered as she pulled away. “We  _ will.  _ I swear. I can’t let you go again. Not after this.”   
  
With a weary sigh, she untangled herself from his arms and moved to sit beside him, tucking herself into his good arm and laying her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and let the noises of the forest around them soak into the silence between them. He pulled her tight against his side, his self-hatred vanishing at her warmth beside him.

“Now, since you distracted me before, I can finally tell you what I meant to lead with.” She nuzzled affectionately against his shoulder.

"I found an old smugglers' hold in a cave a few miles away. It's well-hidden, and nobody uses it anymore since the Palace fell. It'll be safe, if we can get there. I don’t know how urgently you want to move, but if you wait a few more days, I can get it set up for you. Make it a bit more homey." 

He remembered the Palace. Maz’s. He knew where that was. Without Maz’s keep up and running, he doubted anyone, much less the Resistance, would have any interest in that area of the planet. It would be safe.   


“Can we go now? Tonight?” he asked.

She peered fretfully down at his leg as a plan formed in her mind.   


“Yes. I'm afraid to move you with that leg, but it needs to be done. If I can stabilize it better, do you think you'll be able to hold onto me with one arm?"

He tried desperately to cling on to the quickly fading high of their intimacy. Except for the bruises forming on their necks, and the flush in their skin, it was as if they had never been tangled in each other at all.

This was his fate, then: he was not to die at the hands of Resistance, but would become a nobody, a non-person trapped on Takodana for the foreseeable future.

In some ways, it felt preferable to a life with the First Order vipers, ready to snipe and tear him down at any moment, always scanning his back for the best place to dig in a blade.

Kylo Ren was truly dead from the crash after all; all that was left of him would perish when he stepped out of the cabin. Ben Solo would be alive but for the mercy of the last Jedi, living in a cave and awaiting her return. 

It wouldn't be forever, he thought, but time would creep without Rey. 

It wasn't the brightest future he could hope for, but for the first time in ages, he knew it was a future with some pinpricks of light, small glimmers of hope to propel him.

He squeezed her side with his left hand.

"Let me see what I can do."

He summoned his boots, long abandoned in the corner of the cabin, and slid them on slowly; first the right, and then, with quite a bit of patience and a little assistance, his left. He called Rey's staff to his hand, and, leaning hard against it, was able to rise into a crouch with his right leg, preparing to stand.

"I think we can make this work," he said.

She rose with him, looking up at him with adoration in her eyes. When they were standing across from one another, she stepped into his space, gingerly lifting his right hand to place it on her lower back before she wrapped her own arms around his waist. Careful not to squeeze him too hard and aggravate his ribs, she laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes.   
  
"I love you, Ben," she whispered. "And I promise I will keep you safe."

Cradling her for balance, he squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her head, smiling to himself. He remembered holding her like this on the Canto Bight landing pad, hating himself for letting her go. But here she was, back in his arms. And he was at peace.   
  
"My Rey," he muttered into her hair, an exclamation of thanks, of trust.   
  
He no longer felt as weak and feeble as he embraced her. He was standing, which was a blessing enough, and dressed, which made him feel more human than he had in days.   
  
He was not the same man who had fallen from the sky. They both knew that. But he was beginning to resemble the man he had always wanted to be.

When his heartbeat began to overwhelm her, the steady rhythm threatening to draw her back down onto the pallet, Rey finally broke the hug, eyes glancing lovingly up at him.

“Let's get you packed.”. Crouching back down to retrieve the few possessions he had scattered in the small hut, she shoved them hurriedly into her pack, stuffing it to the point of bursting. The pallet wouldn't fit, nor would the blanket or pillows, and they wouldn’t survive in the nets on her speeder. She stopped for a minute, pondering the frustrating circumstances.

“Can you make more than one trip?” he asked.

“I'll have to,” Rey said, shrugging. “We can't leave a trace. Especially not now.”

She glanced at the hole he had punched in the wall.

“I just hope it doesn't look like it has been recently occupied,” she said, sighing as she picked up the bandage he had discarded from his sling. “That's the last thing we need.”

His head narrowly missing the ceiling of the cabin, Ben took a step forward, feeling her heat, the panic radiating off of her.

“It will be alright,” he said, taking the pack from her and guiding it into the hand balancing on his staff. He planted another quick kiss on her head. 

She sighed, letting a fraction of her worry leech away at his touch.

“Isn’t that my line?” she said wryly. “Hopeful and optimistic is usually my wheelhouse.”

"Hey, maybe you're the one corrupting me," he said.

He softly added, "Or maybe I have a reason to fight to stay alive."

She smiled to herself, her heartbeat fluttering in her chest. For a man of so little experience in love, he knew just what to say to make her melt. 

She turned to him, holding up the bandage.

“I’m going to bind your leg a bit more. I want it to be as sturdy as possibly in case things go sideways.”

Planting his weight firmly on the staff, he shifted his legs so they were apart and Rey could get the best angle on his right thigh.

She knelt, searching for the rigid splint through his baggy pants with nimble fingers. Once she found it, she made quick work of the wrapping. He shifted a bit before looking down at her. He loved the intensity on her face as she worked, her brow furrowed and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She tilted her head up to look at him.

"How's that feel?" she asked, trying not to blush at her position at his feet.

"It almost feels like I can stand on it."

She nodded, a satisfied half-smile on her face.

"Good, but don't try it." She stood with a huff.

She retrieved one of her old wraps with a twist of her fingers.

"Arm's next." She stepped behind him and gently pressed into the points of his shoulders with her palms. "Shoulders back as much as you can..."

He laughed.

"You sure you can wrap that? You can't exactly reach."

She batted lightly at his uninjured shoulder blade, suppressing her giggles. Getting the bandages right from his height was a bit of a struggle, but she managed it as quickly as she could,. She made a circuit around him, eyeing her handiwork critically.

"Comfy?"

He flexed his right hand, once again bound to his chest. "Not exactly, but that's the point, isn't it?" 

Ben reached out and called his cape to his hand, wrapping and pinning it around himself triumphantly.   


He shifted again, putting more weight on his bad leg, and took a small, hesitant step forward, putting on the slightest weight on the ball of his foot to allow him to move in a limp. He met her gaze, and smiled gently. "I missed this."

She returned a fretful wince.

"Be careful," she chided weakly, though despite her worries, it warmed her heart to see him up and about again.

"Maybe you're the one who should be careful," he said with a smirk. He took another small, limping step. "You now have a moody, mobile Sith Lord on your hands."

He started to laugh, then froze. 

She heard it too; it sounded like engines, somewhere far away. 

“Is that…” he started to say, listening closely.

She shook her head. “No...no there’s no way they’ve followed me out here.” She frowned. “Even so, we should probably get a move on.”

He called the candledroid to his hand, submerging the cabin in darkness before shoving it into his pocket.

"Come on," she whispered, reaching out for him blindly.

Her hands were shaking minutely when she found him, wrapping her arm around his waist to steer them both toward the door.

With Rey holding him for balance, he lumbered out into the night air as quickly as he could manage. When they arrived at her speeder, she quickly stashed her pack and staff before situating him as comfortably as possible on the back of the bike. When he was seated, she hurriedly grabbed his extended left leg and, using her remaining wrap, tied his leg in a sling on the seat to keep it hoisted in the air.

Only then did she settle herself on the bike.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, relishing the pressure of her against him. He lifted his right leg off the ground, his knee brushing her side.   
  
“Hold on tight, Ben,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I modded this one myself, so she can really move.”

He planted a quick kiss against her neck.

"Let it fly, cyar'ika," he whispered into her ear.

She kicked the ignition to life and did just that.

Trees whipped past them, blurred shapes smearing across her peripherals in the dark. Ben’s arm was hard and firm around her waist, his fingers digging into her shirt. 

The whine of the speeders suddenly screamed closer on their tail. Her heart stopped momentarily. She had been wrong. They  _ had  _ been found. She knew what she had to do. She couldn’t tell if the vibrations in her insides were coming from the speeder underneath her, or from the panic turning her blood into lightning.

He wished they weren't in danger. He wished he could enjoy Rey's body resting against his. He wished he could savor the wind lashing his cheeks and hair, the snap of his cape behind him, the scent of mud and trees and rot; he thought he could hear the gentle slapping of waves on the lake, feel the rush of life from the creatures within it. He wanted to enjoy his freedom while he had it, but they couldn't rest. The peace they had found together was in jeopardy. They could not rest.

_ I haven’t been this scared since Starkiller, _ she thought, louder than she had anticipated, causing a flash of anguish in Ben’s mind. He had been the monster hunting her then. He knew what she must have thought of him. A beast. A killer.

She was right then, he knew. She still wouldn't be completely wrong now. A question flew into his mind as Rey swerved to the side to avoid a tree. If the moment came, would he kill to save himself and Rey? 

His instincts said yes, he wouldn't hesitate. But his fear for the woman under his arm made him reconsider. He couldn't kill in front of Rey. Especially not people close to her. But if it were their lives or that of a Resistance soldier, he would have no choice.

He couldn’t let it come to that.

He pressed his chin down to rest on her shoulder and felt through the Force.

_ They are flying several degrees off our path _ , Ben thought, her panic nipping at his mind.  _ We have the speed advantage over of them. Maybe we should redirect our course _ ?

_ Can you tell if they're following us _ ? she asked back.  _ I know where I'm going, but if they're on our tail, I can lose them _ .

She had felt the brief flicker of pain spark through Ben and worry for his injuries bubbled up under her panic. The cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety flooding her veins had her flying mostly on instinct now, the Force acting like a scanner in her senses. She wondered if this was the feeling that had given Kylo Ren his edge in battle.

He felt through the Force to the other forms in the darkness.

_ They're not following us, exactly _ , he thought, letting her listen into their minds.  _ But they suspect someone is out here, and they are adjusting their courses to get closer. _ __  
__  
He listened for another moment.   
  
_They know you’re out here. They know your speeder is gone. They don’t have reason to suspect I am with you. I think._

He hesitated, turning his head towards a small hum in the darkness.  _ But they have night vision goggles _ .

The speeder passed by a rocky ravine, and Ben had an idea.

_ Slow down and idle down there for a while _ , he suggested.  _ We can feel them, but we can't see them. They can see us, but not feel us. They won't be able to see us here, and with the engine off, they won't hear us _ .  _ We can shake them. _

She obeyed without realizing, guiding the bike down the hill and stopping with a jolt in the ravine. The green scent of water and wet dirt stung her nose as she gulped chest-fulls of damp air. Standing still let the panic run rampant through her body, and she grabbed for his arm where it wrapped around her waist. He was solid, he was alive, he was safe as long as he was close to her. They couldn’t get him if she was there. She wouldn’t let them.

He pulled her impossibly tighter as she clutched at his arm, rocking her gently. The thrum of life in the forest around them was soothing, and Ben began to hum a tune in her ear she had heard once before on a beach far away, a lullaby. His heart raced, but he needed to be calm. He had to be strong for her, and this time, he knew his body wouldn't be an impediment.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and her hand snaked up around his neck, twining into his hair. Her comrades sped above them past the ravine, with barely a glance down into their hiding place. She nearly sobbed in relief as the sound of the engines faded away.

Ben gave her a squeeze, a pulse of comfort, as his breath returned to him. He had held his breath for so long his vision had become fuzzy.

The chorus of the forest was loud and sure once again, and the whine of the engines  was drowned out by the sounds of trilling nocturnal insects and the rushing of wind through the trees.

He dipped into the Force again, humming once more into her ear.

_ They haven't noticed we stopped yet _ , he said.  _ They think they are still on our trail, following our sound. _

He buried his face into her shoulder, planting slow kisses wherever he could reach.

_ We're okay for now, ma Sareen _ , he thought.  _ Point us where we are headed. I'll see if it's safe yet _ .

With a shaky exhale and a determined nod, she kicked the speeder back into gear and guided it up the embankment. She stopped for a moment to get her bearings in the dark before tearing off again into the forest.

Though he was holding on to Rey for safety, he was useless to help her. Ben tried to soothe her, frightened as she was, though his own heart made it hard to hold steadily on to her. He felt his stomach knot as a sudden rush of Darkness poured off of Rey. He reached out for her, but was met by a howling wall of terror.

His Darkness was rage. Hers was fear. And it was potent.

He couldn't lie and tell her they would be alright. He buried his face in her back and tried to call to her.

_ Hold on, cyar'ika _ , he begged.  _ We're still here _ .

Her thoughts ran in anxious spirals through her skull.

The whoosh of the trees flying by hollowed out and became the hiss of sand on metal. An old nightmare haunting her senses. The sun blotted out behind the howls of a vengeful god, an oppressive blackness pressing in from all sides. Steelpeckers screeching for their feast, tearing holes in her armor, letting in the stinging wind. Her skin itched and crawled with tiny particles of stone and dust and bones of a planet-full of corpses.

She needed to keep running. That had always been the law of the desert: run far, run fast, and when you can’t keep running, fight dirty. Survive. Above all things, survive.

She would do whatever it took to keep Ben alive. He hadn’t been forged in the desert as she had, from sand and stone and hard hungers. He was made of a different metal than she was. His alloy would not erode under the seething breath of R’iia. She would make sure of that. 

The stars would go on turning without her; she was no one from nowhere, a speck of dust in a sandstorm. But Ben...Ben needed to live. He was too important. He was too close to the peace he so desperately sought. She couldn’t imagine a galaxy without him. She had to keep him alive. She had to get them to a safe place.

_ Rey _ ?

Try as he might, Ben could not feel the Light in Rey, the glow she radiated day and night like a loving sun. There was just a bleakness, a grim resolve to escape. He wanted to puncture through the agony that consumed her, but was scared to disturb her, lest she lose her path. She was focused on the blackness in front of them.

He knew what he could do. He felt through the forest for the speeders he sensed earlier, tracking them easily ahead of them. He surged into the minds of the pilots. One was weaker than the other, but even the stronger of the two could be quite suggestable. Though a pure mind trick would be difficult without facing either man, he sent a hum piercing their thoughts; a whine high enough that they would think the speeder they sought was traveling away, creating a long circle back to the way they came. He hoped it was enough to get then off the trail. More than anything, he wanted to protect Rey. 

Her back was tensed and her eyes focused on the dark woods ahead of them. Ben didn't know where her mind had gone. This time, he was the one waiting in the dark around her, while she retreated further away, into herself.

He pressed his lips to her shoulder softly, hoping the gesture would reassure her in some silent way.

_ Come back, Rey _ , he pleaded, his mind echoing the words she herself had used earlier.  _ Whenever you get where we need to go...just come back to me. _

_...come back to me... _

His voice was soft and earnest. It slipped under the black wall that had come up in her mind and caressed her consciousness with a gentle touch, wove its way around her like an embrace, offering far more protection than any wall. For a moment, her eyes cleared, her inhale was deeper, the arm around her waist felt like comfort instead of constriction. 

... _ Ben? _ ...

With a sudden burst of speed and agility, the speeder broke through the woods to a clearing against a cliff face. The cave was only a few more meters north-east.

They made it.

A hysterical laugh burst from her mouth, freed from its prison in her throat, as the rocks marking the cave opening came into view. The mouth of the cave was invisible from certain perspectives, but Rey knew where they were.

They made it.

She slowed to a stop behind a large boulder and got off the bike on shaking legs. The mad little squeaks kept escaping her as she untied Ben’s leg from the speeder and lifted him from his spot with the Force. There he stood in front of her; towering despite his limp, pale face flushed with adrenaline, dark hair messy from the wind. Alive. Real. Safe.

They made it.

She couldn’t move.

He felt wobbly on his feet after being strapped to the speeder, but slowly, laboriously, he hobbled over to where she stood, rooted to the spot and on the verge of sobbing. Careful not to knock her over as he limped to her, he wrapped his arm around her, pressing her face to his chest and burying her in his cape. 

She jumped when his arm came around her, then nearly collapsed as her senses came howling back to life without the adrenaline of the escape keeping her upright. She could feel her knees weaken and she clutched onto the back of Ben's shirt to keep from falling to the ground.

“You did it,” he whispered, burying his face in the top of her head. “We made it.”   
  
He moved his hand in what he hoped were comforting strokes along her back. He could feel her trembling against him.   
  
“We’re here, Rey. You’re amazing. I love you so much, and I’m so proud of you.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, biting into her palm to keep from screaming as she sobbed; hot, relieved tears coursed down her cheeks in torrents. 

The Light was hot where the Darkness had been cold, and it felt like coming out of a deep freeze into his embrace. His skin was warm against hers and the numbness of the dark was slowly retreating from her nerve endings as he held her.

He felt her uncurl from herself under his palm like smoke drifting into the air. He wished he could scoop her up in his arms and hold on so she didn’t dissolve into the sky around them. She had been so strong for him for so long, and now he could see the toll that protecting him had taken. 

He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. Guilt was selfish. In this moment, she just needed him to be as strong for her as she had been for him through it all.

He pulled the candledroid out from his pocket and lit it, letting it hover near them. Placing his hand on her forearm he pulled her away from his chest, and leaned over to meet her eye to eye.

“Cyar’ika? Rey? Come back. Please,” he said, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears away from her cheeks.    
  
She looked up at him, hiccuping behind her hand, unable to coax any words out of herself. Her eyes were dark and unfocused in the low light.

Trying to fight the sympathetic tears of relief threatening to flood his face, he flashed her a wide, toothy smile.

“I’m here, Rey,” he said again, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m right here. You did it. You saved us.”   
  
He looked around demonstratively, as if seeking foes in the quiet forest around them, and seeing none.

_ Ben _ ... she sobbed.  _ I'm so scared...I can't lose you again. I don't know if I'd survive it _ .

“They are heading far away from here,” he whispered, eyes scanning hers. He tried to send comfort to her once more through his bare skin touching hers. The ocean waves of Canto Bight. 

A remembered voice. His voice.

_ “Cyar'ika, No matter where in the galaxy you go, I will belong to you. Remember that. No more masks. No more lies. The next time we are together...we will never be separated again.” _

She whimpered quietly into her hand, leaning her forehead against his.

"Don't be afraid," he begged. "I’m here. And I will be here for as long as it takes. I will keep my promise."

She lowered her hand, wincing at the deep dents where her teeth had dug into her palm. She reached up to mirror his hand on her own cheek.

"I love you with all my heart," she rasped through a voiced roughened by panic.   
  
He paused then pressed a kiss to her forehead, sending as much calm and adoration into her as he could before pulling away and tenderly looking at her frightened face, wishing he could soothe her ills with just a glance and a few pretty words.   
  
"Everything I am — everything I was — everything I will ever be is yours. I love you, Rey. And I won't leave your side now that I have you in my arms again."

Without a second thought, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard and desperate. Everything she felt for him, she poured into her kiss. Every fear and anxiety she had was shed in his embrace. They were together, they were safe, that’s all that mattered. The moments that had passed in their escape vanished in a wave of elation as the Force wrapped around them, cradling them protectively.

Ben returned her kisses with his own eager ones: a celebration. This was different, he reflected, as she pressed her tongue through his lips to deepen the kiss. Her mouth on his was just as wonderful and firm as ever, but something in him felt different. He could feel a warmth in his chest, a powerful wave of emotion coursing through him.   
  
Belonging. This was it.    
  
He was not a cog in a war machine. He was not a puppet to a ruler. He was not expected to be the zealous pupil of his legendary uncle, the dutiful son of distracted parents. He was just loved for what he was. Who he was to her.

Rey pulled away reluctantly, pressing a final soft, lingering kiss to his lips. She smiled wearily up at him, the starlight finally returning to her eyes as the darkness retreated.    
  
“I’m sorry, love,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Let’s get inside.”

He rested his hand on her arm once again.   
  
"Don't ever apologize for that," he said. "You don't have to be strong for me all the time. You can be scared, Rey. But when you are scared, know I'm here."   
  
He planted a kiss on her head, and took her hand in his good hand. With the Force, he flicked the candledroid into her waiting palm.   
  
"Lead on," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two trips are for wimps.
> 
> In which Ben immediately regretted putting clothes on.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to leave you,” she muttered.
> 
> "I don't want you to leave." He knew he should finish that statement with a qualifier: "but you will be back soon," or "it's only for a minute."
> 
> But nothing else came out.

She held the small candledroid aloft, letting the light fall over the old smugglers’ hold. It was littered with junk, most of it older than both Ben and Rey combined, and covered in various colors of dust. But it was dry, well-ventilated, and there were no animals or insects to be found. And it was safe.

“Home sweet...cave, I guess,” she muttered.

"Well, it still looks more comfortable than my quarters," he said, looking around. In truth, there was something about the dusty, cluttered space that seemed more homey than any of the spaces he had resided in under the First Order. He was familiar with the concept of home, but the apartment he had lived in with his parents, fashionable and well-furnished as it was, held too much darkness to be met with any sort of fondness. Maybe his hut at Luke’s academy had been his home, a space all to his own where he could store his few possessions. But it, too, was covered in the shadows of time.

He imagined home. He thought of the cabin early in the morning, Rey’s sleeping form curled beside him, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm, the scent of her washing over him.

With her here, maybe it could become a home, cramped and dusty as it was.

"It's not forever, right?" he asked softly, leaning his right side against the wall.

He didn't want to say what he really wanted to ask: whether he would soon be free of the incessant hunting of the Resistance. Whether they would have time to steal together more often, or if she would be sent off-world soon. If the end of the searches meant worse was to come.

The cave was temporary. And he couldn't fathom the circumstances in which he would have her for his own long-term.

Nothing was certain. Nothing was permanent. But until he could use both of his arms and legs, he was here, waiting for her.

Rey’s face was unreadable.

“Right, not forever...”

She squeezed his hand before letting go to dash back outside for her pack and staff. Outside in the quiet and the darkness, she took a deep breath. The future was a fast approaching thing, and at some point, she and Ben would have to talk about what would happen once he was healed. The thought of separating from him again was nearly enough to make Rey sick. But what else could be done? Neither of them would defect to the other’s side. Perhaps they could just run away, live on some backwater moon and forget that destiny and duty were part of their lives. They were both too stubborn to abandon everything they stood for. They had sacrificed too much. So what else could they do? What other options did they have?

With another deep breath, she returned to the soft light of the cave, shaking the thoughts free of her head. She tossed Ben the staff and then set to unpacking in a flurry of activity. It took little time to get his meager supplies laid out, but moving helped keep her mind off the uncertainties of the future.

He gazed curiously into the darkness beyond the glow of the candledroid.

"How far back does this thing go?" he asked.

She followed his gaze and shrugged.

“I’ve never really gone all the way back, the ceiling drops fairly low just past the majority of the garbage.”

"I guess I'll have plenty of time to explore it.” He leaned against the cave wall to rest, his leg throbbing from too much movement.

“You think there might be anything valuable back there?” she wondered. “It looks like this place hasn’t seen sentient life forms since the Clone Wars.”

"That was my thought, though I'm wondering if that's not an intentional decoy.”

She beamed.“You think like a scavenger.”

Once she’d emptied her pack onto the floor of the cave, she turned back to Ben, her expression determined and fixed on “healer” mode.

“Feeling alright?” she asked. “We had ourselves a wild ride.”

"We did," he agreed, his tone vacant. "But I feel like I could take on the entire Resistance myself."

His joke was empty. He was suddenly feeling very tired. Tired of healing, of hiding. He wanted to steal Rey away from this moss-covered rock. Become whole, without fear, with her.

He remembered the fleeting moments of dreaming of her as his Empress, overseeing the First Order with her by his side. It was too late for that. For all of it.

They couldn't lose each other again, but they couldn't have each other. It was like they were in the exact same place as they had been months ago in Canto Bight.

But one thing had changed, he realized: despite the uncertainty, neither of them wanted to turn their back on the other. They would go down fighting.

She laughed bitterly.

“Careful,” she warned wryly. “Don’t jinx it.”

She stepped closer to where he had propped himself up against the wall. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes and she knew he could see the same in hers. With a soft sigh, she folded herself into his side and the wall and nuzzled against his neck, letting his warmth seep into her bones. Comfort blossomed in her chest as she closed her eyes. This was what she was fighting for.

He wasn't sure when he would get sick of being able to stand up and hold her close, but he hoped it would be a while yet. Her body tucked against his erased the fear that had been lurking in his mind since their flight away from the Resistance scouts.

He was hers. He needed little else but that. Power and an army were worthless to him now; they could bring him riches gutted from lesser worlds, but this, the love of and acceptance flowing off of the small woman pressed against him, was all he had ever craved.

He could make it here. He'd do it for her for as many days as necessary. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He could stay here forever.

She laid a tired kiss against his throat.

“I’ve got to go get the rest of your things out of the cabin,” she mumbled.

He rubbed his thumb lazily against her shoulder. "I'd appreciate it. Are you sure you're alright to go back out there?"

“I’ll be fine.I have to be. Can’t let them find you.”

She kissed his neck again, humming sadly.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she muttered.

"I don't want you to leave." He knew he should finish that statement with a qualifier: "but you will be back soon," or "it's only for a minute."

But nothing else came out.

 _I don't want you to leave._ The words lingered in the air around them.

She continued to press absent, wistful kisses into the column of his throat, each caress of lips a wish that time would stand still for them, just this once. Just this once, let them have all the time in the world, let it never run out for them, her mouth begged softly and silently.

He tilted his head back and sighed, feeling her lips leave little shocks of pleasure along his neck. Stars burst to life and collapsed in her little pecks of adoration. He couldn't tear himself away. His hand resting on her arm became tighter, begging her to stay.

Her own hand snaked up his back, her fingertips tracing the edge of his shoulder blade as her mouth continued its work. She unpinned his cape, letting it fall to their feet. Her tongue darted out to taste the curve of his neck; he tasted like sweat and forest and smoke and Ben. She had been starved for so long, but there was sustenance in his little moans of pleasure and she was hungry for them.

His good arm moved to her lower back to pull her in closer, closer. His broad palm was commanding. He panted ferally as a sensuous warmth seemed to radiate out from his larynx when she pressed her mouth against the protrusion in his throat.

Her touch always seemed to overpower his sense. He loved it, anyway.

She lightly scraped her teeth down to the juncture of his shoulder, before peppering soothing kisses and licks back up the path she had taken. She had to tilt her head all the way back to reach, but when she pressed a languid, open-mouthed kiss against the underside of his jaw, the groan that rumbled under her lips told her that it was well worth the effort.

He closed his eyes, the world melting away around him until it was just him and Rey, hungry, beautiful Rey, lavishing attention on the tender pieces of him he didn't realize longed for her touch.

His good hand wandered, coming to rest on her buttocks, feeling the soft but muscular flesh under his fingers. More. He wanted more of her.

She purred at the contact; his hands had always been one of her favorite parts of him. Especially when they were on her. Emboldened by his touch, she slipped her hand up under the back of his shirt, tracing circles with her fingertips on his bare back. She sucked a blooming bruise onto the soft skin behind the point of his jaw, losing herself in the scent of him and the choked gasps that escaped him.

He could feel his sense escape him as he gave himself over to his body, to her. Turning his body against the wall to give her a better angle on him, he tightened his grip on her rear, pulling her into his hips. She could feel his approval straining through the borrowed jumpsuit. He only wished he had use of both hands.

She moaned against his jugular, rolling her hips into his. Her free hand traced down his chest to his abdomen, where she stopped to take in the tense muscles lying beneath the thin shirt and the taut skin of his stomach. She hadn’t been wrong when she had noted that he had the body of a god. She didn’t even think when her fingers travelled lower down to just brush against his arousal through his pants.

He groaned loudly, luridly, the cave echoing his unchained wanting. He was glad for the support of the rock behind him.

He laced his good hand through her hair, tangling his fingers on the chestnut strands until he reached the base of her skull. He massaged the spot roughly, sending her flashes of his pleasure through the Force. He urged her to continue.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and he intended to let her.

She panted against his neck as the Force sparked with sensation between them, her nails raking down over his back. She whispered her desire, her adoration into his mind as her hand continued to explore the covered length of him. She caught his earlobe between her teeth, worrying it gently in her mouth.

He hissed, feeling his knee buckle beneath him. He slid his hand to her neck, feeling the heat blossoming from under the collar of her shirt.

He sent a thought to her, quick and frantic.

_Elek, cyar'ika. Gedet'ye._

The growl of his deep voice begging in her head sent a pulse of heat straight to her core. She whimpered faintly as her tongue delicately traced the shell of his ear. Her hand on him redoubled its efforts. She ground down fractionally harder on his hardness with the palm of her hand.

He gasped. He hadn't known this kind of touch. He wanted more.

He wanted her.

He ignored the complaints from the back of his mind about what he would be doing if he had full use of his limbs, but he was prepared to improvise. He pulled his burning ear from her and placed a trail of hungry, sloppy kisses down her neck. When he reached the collar of her shirt, he slipped his tongue under, teasing and caressing the skin.

More. More. He couldn't get enough.

She let out a strangled moan at his mouth on her throat, her hand on his back slipping away to his hair, locking her fingers at the back of his neck. She had had enough of dancing around each other. She wanted to touch him. She _needed_ to touch him.

A gentle, silent tendril pressed into his mind, asking for permission.

His response was both an assertion and plea.

Yes, he rumbled, burying his face in her neck and panting. _Haar'chak._

She smirked against his shoulder. She had never heard _that_ kind of language from him before. With deft fingers, she managed to one-handedly unfasten the jumpsuit where it had slipped lower on his hips. She pushed the hem of his shirt up, tucking it up into the bandages confining his right arm. She skated her fingertips down over his abdominal muscles, following the line of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his straining underwear. The sense memories flooding through the bond from him where already taking root in her sinews; she knew exactly how to touch him. With one quick movement, she reached down and wrapped her hand around the hard, burning length of him.

He threw his head back, barely avoiding slamming it against the cave wall as he let out a deep moan. Her hand on him felt unreal, the product of a dream so sweet he wasn't sure he'd ever had it.

His eyes, bleary from rapture, scanned for her face.

She looked up at him with intense focus, her pupils blown wide and liquid in the half light. She was breathing hard, too. Her expression was one of wonder and love and hunger as she worked her hand on him.

 _This_ was exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to feel good for once. As much as he and others believed that he wasn’t worthy of it, he deserved to feel pleasure. She believed that with all her might.

Her fingernails scratched rhythmically against his scalp, creating a counterpoint to the pattern her hand stroked on his cock.

He smiled lazily at her, mirroring her look of love with one of his own. He stopped fighting the heavenly sensations of his body, the wave of pure pleasure coming from her hand his cock and in his hair. He melted against the wall and into her touch.

He was hers.

She leaned forward again and returned to her favorite place on his neck, layering kisses over the already blossoming bruises she'd left earlier. As much as she had hated seeing him black and blue in the days prior, seeing her marks on him swelled her heart with pride. Rey was a selfish creature, a scavenger in her blood, and she claimed what was hers.

Her hand quickened its pace between them, her thumb circling the head of his cock with each upstroke. His body was thrumming under her fingertips.

He panted with the rhythm of her hand sliding along his erection, though with her mouth on his neck accompanying the masterful work of her hand, he wasn't sure how long he could keep it together. He was under her control.

"Rey," he begged, his voice strangled in his throat, the pleasure threatening to rip him apart.

A wicked thought passed over her mind as her strokes tightened and sped up. She kissed a line across his neck, careful not to press too hard into his bad arm. Her lips found her scar and stopped briefly, her breath puffing against his dampening skin as she continued to work him with her hand. She slowly traced the deep line with the tip of her tongue, up his neck to the edge of his jaw, before whispering into his ear.

"Ben."

He growled, sending a warning through her mind. He was at her mercy, but for not much longer now, he knew.

Drawing his good hand away from the cave wall, he gripped her jaw and brought her lips to his, hungry kisses spilling forth in appreciation.

The Force was heat lightning pulsing between them.

She moaned into his kisses, passing fantasies, daydreams, and desires to him on her tongue. Letting him see how much she wanted him. How much she loved him. Her hand around his cock tightened as she moved and her hips unconsciously rolled against the pressure between them. His pleasure singed her nerve endings and set her insides on fire.

His wandering mouth sent her images in return, memories, fantasies, flashes of her, radiant in his eyes, breathless from laughing. Flashes of her, a lightsaber in her hand, her determined eyes fixed on him as the walls erupted in flames around him. Flashes of her, naked before him, standing over him, then kneeling. He had let her image travel through his bloodstream for ages, it felt. His wanting of her lived in his sinews, his muscles, his bones.

And with every rock of her hips against his bare cock, he felt her very real presence flooding under his skin.

He pulled his mouth away long enough to whisper her name. His last warning.

Her free hand came up to lightly touch his face, his eyes immediately focusing on hers. She kissed him softly at the corner of his mouth.

 _I love you, Ben,_ she whispered into his heated mind.

"Let go," she sighed into his lips.

He gave her a slight nod. Pressing his lips softly to hers once more, he sent her a pulse of adoration.

_And I love you._

In a few certain strokes, her strong hand unleashed wave after wave of raw pleasure, and he could feel the shockwave starting. He let out a series of grunts that resolved into a feral gasp as Rey released his orgasm, a bolt of pure bliss that made his body tremble.

As his climax ripped through him, she caught the ripples of pleasure through the bond. She shivered as the sensations soared down her spine, her vision blurring for a moment. His cock throbbed in her hand as she worked him through his orgasm, murmuring praise and words of love into his neck.

He resurfaced soon after, gasping for air as if he had been caught in a current. He radiated his joy, as bright as a newborn star, and begged her to bask in it. He hissed as he spent himself at last, relaxing as Rey released her tense grip on him.

He gazed down at where she held his cock between them. She loved him, even his most sacred pieces. He could not do enough to worship her.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and buried his face in her shoulder. His Rey. His love.

His.

She smiled, warmed by the unstoppable happiness buffeting her in waves. He loved so deeply and so completely; how could he have spent so much of his life with this kind of passion repressed? It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to him.

She withdrew her hand from between them as he peppered her shoulder with lazy kisses and brushed his nose against her skin, like a giant, contented loth-cat.

"Thank you," he murmured in her shoulder, burying his face in her neck, his heart rate slowing as he inhaled deep of her scent. Sweat and earth, as if the warm sand of Jakku was a part of her skin and hair, and a hint of something crisp and clean, like a fresh rainfall.

He could have finished that phrase in a number of ways.

_For caring for me._

_For loving me._

_For never giving up._

But the words failed. He pressed himself closer to her, pouring his love and contentment into her mind.

She chuckled serenely.

“It was my pleasure,” she purred as she gently scratched at the back of his neck, basking in the glow of his affection.

“Your pleasure? I think it’s my turn to give you your pleasure,” he chuckled, nipping suggestively at her pulse point.

She hummed lazily as his face nudged her head over a bit for better access to the sweet skin of her throat. She could forget about the whole galaxy while she was in his arms.

At least until the galaxy reared its ugly head.

Something buzzed in the Force, putting Rey on instant alert and sending her heart to the pit of her stomach. The cabin.

“No,” she whispered, horror-stricken.

He felt the panic seize her.

He squeezed her tight against him, trying to soothe her. Her anxiety from earlier was still so fresh in his mind; he did not want her to be claimed by it again.

“You don’t have to go out there again,” he murmured into her ear. “We’re safe here. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

She shook her head against his neck, her hair tickling his skin.

“I do,” she whispered, the urgency in her voice bordering on fear. “I have to go. There can’t be any trace of you left at that cabin. I have to make sure. I have to keep you safe.”

His heart ached for the woman who loved him enough to face terror after terror for his sake. He wanted to treat her to the same physical pleasure she had given him, wanted to keep her safe by his side, to stop her from feeling panic again, hard on the heels of their flight through the woods.

But he knew she was right. He knew to trust her. He pulled away, righting his clothing and looking at her hand.

"Is there anything I can do to help before you go?"

She looked up at him with worried but loving eyes.

“Kiss me and tell me that you’ll see me tomorrow. As soon as I can get out here,” she whispered.

He took her soiled hand in his, warmed by the unconditional acceptance in which she had taken his body.

"I will see you," he murmured.

He met her gaze and pulled her in close for a kiss. His lips lingered gently on hers, making no demands, but accepting that their escape was not yet complete.

"Vatak’ultuka," he murmured when they parted. _Fight on tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We worked hard for that E rating, dammit.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m just trying to do what’s right."

_Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults._  
Twelfth Night, I.V

* * *

 

The darkness refused to touch Rey as she sped through the forest back to the cabin. Someone was heading there, though she couldn't tell who it was. Her brain was in overdrive, trying to piece together contingency plan after contingency plan, trying to foresee every possible move that the approaching stranger could think up. Whoever they were, if they brought evidence of someone living in that cabin back to Resistance brass, Rey and Ben would both be dead. She gunned the speeder impossibly faster, her chest pressed nearly flat against the body of the bike. The wind whipped through her hair as she flew, the Force guiding her way through the darkened trees.

She could still feel him on her lips, beneath her fingers, under her skin. She had left her heart behind in the smugglers’ cave, and she would do whatever she could to defend him.

She was coming up on the cabin, and with a cold pit in the bottom of her ribs, she realized that she had been too late. There was another speeder parked outside the little hut, and a slight light from within. She stopped the bike behind the cabin and jumped off as silently as possible. Every plan she’d concocted up until then converged on one single thought: keep him safe, no matter what.

The door was still open. She stepped quietly inside.

A man turned to face the door with a jolt, shining his light on her with one hand while his other flew to the pistol strapped to his hip.

"Kriff!" he shouted, as recognition flashed in his dark eyes. His brow furrowed.

"Rey! What the— Kriffing hells, what are you doing here?"

“Poe!” Her voice was relieved but her heart was racing.  
  
“Stars, you scared me,” she laughed breathlessly.

As he began to process her presence in the cabin with him, the shock in his face gave way to suspicion.

"Why are you _here_?"

She leaned against the wall, trying to relax as she cast what she hoped was a casual glance around the room, signs of its recent residence still strewn about.  
  
“You’ve found my little sanctuary,” she said sheepishly. “The base can get so...crowded sometimes. I’m not used to all the people.”  
  
His stern expression softened, but only slightly. His tone didn't.  
  
"You're telling me all this is yours?" he demanded, gesturing the to pallet. "This is where you've been running off to?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
“It’s quiet out here,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “It reminds me of Jakku.” She laughed bitterly. “Ironic, isn’t it? I did so much to escape that junkyard and now I’m almost homesick for it.”  
  
She caught his intent gaze, returning it as steadily as she could.  
  
“You've been here every time we can't find you? When you don't answer your comm, you come out here?"  
  
He gestured around the room with his light before he let the beam rest on her face. Shining it directly into her eyes, his message was clear: this was still an interrogation. She blinked, but did not back down.

“Am I going to be punished?”

He ran his free hand through his hair.  
  
"Are you going to be punished? I don't know. Kriff, I have to think. I need to decide what to do with you. You've been sneaking out of the base at all hours, Rey. Do you know how dangerous that is?"  
  
She frowned, squinting into the light.  
  
“Really, Poe?” she griped. “I think I can handle myself just fine out here on my own.”  
  
She sighed, stepping closer with her hands up in a placating gesture.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind right now. And I know you and Finn and Rose are concerned. But you don’t have to worry about me, I’ve been taking care of myself my whole life. I’m used to it.”  
  
She reached out to squeeze his arm. “Trust me, please.”  
  
Poe jerked away.  
  
"Rey, cut the shit," he snapped. “We all know you can take care of yourself. What do you think most of us did before we joined up with the Resistance? We looked after ourselves. But you don't have to do that anymore."

He dropped the light so the beam hit the floor, casting his face in a severe glow.

"I'm saying this not as your superior, but as your friend. We are your family, Rey. Not just me and Rose and Finn. All if the Resistance is." He paused, regaining his composure at last. "I get it. It's hard not to feel trapped while waiting here for the next move. You get stir crazy around the base. But what makes you think it's okay to just run off like that?"  
  
Rey stepped back, immediately on the defensive.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” she shouted. “I do the work I’m assigned to, I bleed Resistance colors, I’m trying to get better at the Jedi stuff to support the cause. Your cause. So what if I don’t spend every waking moment on base! What more do you want from me?”

She shouldn’t be this heated, but she couldn’t help how frustrated she felt.

"What the hell has gotten into me?” Poe bellowed in return. “I'm the one who has to constantly convince the other officers that you're not going to go desert us! You get certain privileges being a Jedi, and we work with that, but you take your speeder and disappear without warning. Ee don't know when or if to expect you back!"

“We’re on the same side here!” Rey snapped. “Tell me honestly that you don’t feel like jumping in an X-Wing and setting coordinates for anywhere else! I’m shit at this, I own that!”

She turned away, pressing her hand to her forehead, holding back angry tears.

“I’m just trying to do what’s right,” she said, voice choked.  
  
He wanted to lower his voice, but he couldn't stop himself. His worry and frustration of the past several days — months even, where Rey was concerned — were boiling over at last.

"You think I don't want to fly away and avoid my problems? Of course I do! But there are people counting on me. Yes, the whole Resistance needs me to do my job. It sounds like a lot, sure, but even on the days I don't want to do my job or the pressure get too much, I still hold the line wherever I'm needed because I want to look out for my friends. And I used to think that includes you, but right now, I’m not sure what you really think of us."

He stepped closer, tone softening at last.

"You want to do what's right, that it? Finn, Rose, and I have worried ourselves sick over you. Do you even care anymore? You just want to get away from us so badly."  
  
She broke down then; her back hit the wall and she slid down it as a torrent of pent up emotions and frustrations flooded her system. The last few days had been a seemingly endless, out of control barrage of panic, stress, and guilt, and Rey found that she couldn’t hold it together anymore.

She wished that she could tell Poe everything. She wished that Ben could be there to hold her.

She was, after all, a selfish creature by nature.

But she couldn’t have either.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Poe, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. She felt utterly lost.  
  
He sighed, frustration evaporating into the air around him.

"Rey, I didn't mean to erupt on you like that," he mumbled.

He dug in his pocket, fished out his comm, muttered a quick message, and put it back, kneeling next to Rey. He waited a moment, letting her get it out, and then put a comforting hand on her shoulder, his thumb gently stroking it.

"Look, we don't exactly get what's going on with you, but we still care, okay?" he said softly. "You haven't been the same since the battle. We don't get it, but we're trying. You just...can't leave us in the lurch like that. Especially not..."

He trailed off, embarrassed.  
  
She sniffed, wiping her eyes and looking up at him.

“Not what?” she asked.  
  
He slumped against the wall next to her, sighing again. Caught.

"I guess you've been hearing what's going on in the meetings. Maybe you heard the murmurs in the base," he said, carefully picking his words. "It's probably nothing. Just a bunch of rumors and hearsay."  
  
She raised a curious eyebrow.

“Well it’s obviously something if it’s stressing you out this much.”

She nudged him gently, giving a small smile.

“What’s the dish on base?” she joked weakly.  
  
"Look, if I tell you, I don't want you to think less of me, or assume I think less of you. That any of us do. It's just..."

He trailed off, eyes scanning Rey everywhere but her face.

"You know there was some weird shit surrounding the death of Kylo Ren. I mean, I know for a fact I shot down his ship. And I know you can do your Jedi-Force-scanner thing and find him anywhere on Takodana. But some people...look, we didn't want to make you feel like we were questioning _you_ or anything, but..."

He returned his gaze to Rey's face, quirking an eyebrow.

"You must think this sounds absolutely stupid, but...some people on the base believe that Kylo Ren didn't die. That he walked away from the crash and is somewhere out here."

Rey’s heart stopped briefly, but she managed to school her face away from the panic curdling her blood.

He quickly turned, raising his hands defensively.

"Look, I know that you’re good at what you do. I have no question that you could find him. But he's been in my head before, and I know how he can twist things, and..."

He smiled sheepishly.

"I lost you, didn't I? This is all crazy talk."  
  
“So...and stop me if I get this wrong, you think that Kylo Ren somehow walked away from from an upper-atmosphere ship crash and is hiding out in the woods trying to seduce me to the Dark Side?” she said slowly.

She snorted a little laugh.

_Well, he’s not wrong._

“That’s really not how the Force works,” she snickered. “Besides, Force-user or not, he was still human, remember? Do you know any human who could survive a wreck like that? I heard the ship burned so hot that not even bones were left.”

The lies were coming to her easier now, she realized with a guilty pang. When had she gotten so good at lying to her friends’ faces?  
  
Poe sighed, a look of grief washing over his face, one that Rey recognized.

"Human. Right," he said stiffly.

He was thinking of the General, of course. He felt some lingering guilt about killing the son of Leia Organa, even if it meant ending the reign of the Jedi Killer Supreme Leader. But he decided to let the matter drop entirely. In the light of his hand torch, crouched next to Rey, the contemplative Jedi who taught him to meditate the other day, he felt absolutely foolish. Despite their convictions, Seth and Taj’s ideas were immaterial. A ghost story.

"You're right. It's silly. I shouldn't be obsessing over this rumor...it's been circulating amongst the grunts... I’ve honestly got to stop drinking with those guys.”

He huffed a laugh, but his face became abruptly sincere. “But even if he's dead, we were worried you had heard the rumor and it had gotten to you in some way. Like you feel that you and your loyalties are being questioned, and Finn and I were talking and we thought that that's why you were absent so much."  
  
She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"It's definitely strange," she said quietly. "He was such a...larger than life kind of nightmare. You know how some of the old-timers talk about Vader or the Emperor like they were Death itself? How sometimes they get that look like the two of them will be there down the next hallway? It sort of feels like that sometimes...it's hard to imagine that someone so...monstrous was human enough to die."

She hated the words as they left her mouth and hated herself for saying them. Poe needed to hear these words from her, but it stung her even more that there was a shred of truth in them. Kylo Ren was a monster, and Ben Solo was alive. But she couldn't separate the two men anymore. Ben and Kylo were one and the same, the dark and the light contained in one human body. There were aspects of Kylo still lurking in Ben, and Kylo had no shadow without Ben's light still flickering dimly within him. But in the end, he was still just one man with two names trying to find balance.

"You know, I've been meditating out here a lot," she continued after a moment. "Master Luke didn't teach me a lot, but he taught me how to reach out in the Force, to feel everything."

She sat up and turned to look Poe dead in the eye.

"If I had felt Kylo Ren in the Force, I would have told you, Poe."

 _Liar,_ she accused herself.  
  
He nodded somberly, and wrapped his right arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his side.

"I know that, oh sage Jedi Master. I trust you completely," he said, cracking a smile at his own wit. She forced a smile back.

He paused, face falling.

"Kriff, you must think I'm an absolute idiot. I just got so swept up in the rumors...everyone at base is so jumpy—Finn and I were out here searching for something, _anything_ that might be a sign, maybe get to the bottom of this one way or the other...I guess it was just you. We must have been chasing you around the forest for who knows how long."

He stopped rambling to let out a weak laugh. "What a bunch of asses, right?"  
  
She chuckled. "Yeah, but you're my asses.”

She became abruptly serious, her voice was sincere and for once her words weren't lies.

"I appreciate you guys worrying about me. I'm going to try to get better at the whole...‘people’ thing. I want to do right by everyone; I don't know where I'd be without the Resistance."

She paused, an alternate future blurring her vision. A future that she had felt with Ben, mere hours ago inside these very walls. A future of warmth, love, safety.

"No, I know exactly where I'd be..."  
  
He squeezed her shoulder again, and took a deep breath.

"You have to think about where we're coming from; we are all as bored and tired of waiting as you are," he said. "I know a little bit more about our next moves than you do, but not much. And even though I've only been here a few days, I'm just as stir-crazy and anxious."

He paused for a moment, regarding her.

"Around here, the shadows seem to be whispering, you notice that? It's like there's something...behind the leaves of the trees...like _ghosts_ playing with your sanity. Maz said something about this place having some interesting properties in the Force, but I didn't get it. Until now, I guess. We’re all jumpy, and this planet... it's only making it worse, isn’t it?"

In that moment, the cabin seemed to hum. Rey felt a tug, faint but definite; Ben was pulling on their bond. She hadn’t felt it like this since before Canto Bight.

 _Rey?_  
  
She shivered at his voice where it curled in her mind. It was both a balm and a torment to her fractured nerves.

"Yeah," she said absently, distracted by the feeling of Ben in her mind again. "There may be a nexus somewhere around here. I mean, last time I was on Takodana, I awakened in the Force. So that's got to indicate something..."  
  
"Yeah?" Poe asked, suddenly eager. "So it's not just me? It could be the Force messing with us?"

He let out a relieved laugh.

"You must think we’re all so dumb. I swear, when I saw this place, when I opened the door, I actually thought, 'This is it. I've found Kylo Ren's hideout.'"

He chucked again then buried his face in his palm.

  
Silence.

Ben pulled himself up from where he had been sitting on the floor of the cave and tried to stand. He tugged again on their connection.

_Cyar'ika?_

  
Rey laughed breathlessly, pulling away from Poe casually.

"Oh yeah?" she quipped. "What tipped you off? The deep shadows and general impression of lingering gloom?"

"That," Poe laughed. "And the fact that this is a pretty nice set-up already waiting for someone to just come on in and camp out for however long they like."

She looked around, trying to stave off the inexplicable panic rising in her. Poe couldn't hear Ben speaking low and soft in her head, Poe couldn't sense the stutter in her heart at the sweet name that Ben had whispered. Ben was miles away, safe in a cave that no one else knew about.

“Is Finn still out there?" she asked quickly. "You said that the two of you had gone out looking for me."

  
Rey didn't respond again for a few long seconds after. Panic made his cheeks color and his blood run sharp and icy through his veins. Was this what Rey had felt in the forest before they arrived here?

He tried to feel out for her in the forest. She was there, accompanied by another familiar presence. The stronger-minded person on the speeders: Dameron, the pilot.

He had Rey.

Without another thought, Ben pushed the floating candledroid to the entrance of the cave to light his way. He thrust the staff in front of him and tried to hobble quickly towards the mouth of the cave, towards the forest.

He didn’t know how, but his only thought was that he had to get to her. He had to save her.

He raised the staff to navigate over a bumpy rock outcropping and his left boot struck a protruding rock, and he found himself tipping over. He shot out his good hand and caught himself on the wall of the cave, but not before sending a shock of pain through his left side. He screamed, his pain echoing through the cave. His leg throbbed, and he gingerly lowered himself onto the ground, his bad leg splayed in front of him, his right curled beneath him.

He would crawl to her if he had to, but he was still too weak to even walk through the rough cave.

 _Rey,_ he tugged again, desperate and fearful. _Please. Tell me you're safe._

  
Poe nodded. "Yeah, that was him I called a few minutes ago. Sent him your love. I told him to head back, since the cabin was a false alarm."

He stood and offered her a hand. "We should get heading back, too."  
  
Ben’s anxiety pulled hard behind her navel, and Rey maybe gripped Poe’s hand a bit tighter than was strictly necessary.

“Sorry, lost my balance a bit,” she mumbled, righting herself and brushing the dust from her clothes. “I’m right behind you.”

As Poe walked out of the cabin ahead of her, she tugged a response on the other end of the thread connecting her to the cave.

 _I’m safe, love. Poe got to the cabin before I did. Threw him off the scent. Have to go back to base for the night. I love you. I love you. I love_  
  
"Rey?" Poe asked again, more deliberately this time. "Did you hear me?"

  
Ben wrapped his arm around his right knee, holding himself tight. He felt the fear leaving him, but its chill lingered in his fractured bones.

_I love you._

He offered one last affectionate, weak tug before turning away from the mouth of the cave. He wished she could have stayed, felt the warmth of his love embrace her, to bring her the same bliss she had given him. Instead, he was alone again. And would remain so for the time being. He could ignore the hunger when Rey would leave for a day without returning. He rationed his water and fought off dehydration the best he could manage. But the loneliness, the anxiety...those he couldn't push away. He never could, even as a child.

Ignoring the raw scrapes on his hand and the soreness in his side, he took up the staff again, and much more slowly began to clamber back deeper into the cave, where he would remain out of sight. He was grateful that at least the cave was both long enough and wide enough that he had room to walk in this hideaway, and with the smugglers' goods left behind, he had something else to occupy his now frantic mind.

He pulled a tarp off a stack of crates and laid it on the ground, fumbling as he tried desperately to flatten it against the ground.

 

"Hm?" she said, snapping out of her reverie. "Sorry, I spaced out."  
  
"I can tell," he said, gruff at first, but then he smiled a relaxed grin. "I said 'Where did you park your speeder?' I know you had one, but I didn't even hear you park it."  
  
"Oh, it's around the back," she said absently. "I'm surprised you didn't hear me, the engine's got one hell of a chip in it." She snickered. "Must have been too focused on the lingering gloom."  
  
"It was probably the blood pounding in my ears," he said. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to draw a blaster on a Sith Lord. That never ends well."

He followed her back to her speeder, and froze, stunned, as she mounted the vehicle. "Rey, where are your goggles?"  
  
She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Don't really need them, I have the Force to guide me."

The bike hummed to life and she sped off without another word, tearing through the forest with near unsettling ease.  
  
Poe watched her for as long as he dared before circling the cabin back to his own speeder. Something felt odd in that hut, and he couldn't place it.

  
Though he was sore from his hasty escape attempt, Ben found his racing mind unable to settle enough to begin to sleep. Maybe it was his new surroundings. Maybe he really couldn’t believe Rey was safe out there. He knew he didn’t have to worry about her friends; they would never harm her. When it came to them, he only had to worry about his own well-being.

He had lowered himself onto one of the now-uncovered crates to ponder the cave and its forgotten treasures. He didn't know how far back it went past what he could see; he wasn't sure even Rey knew. But at least this temporary home was more spacious. He was starting to feel cramped while confined to the cabin walls.

Rising carefully, he turned to the uncovered crate he had been sitting on and opened it.

It was filled to bursting with Republic credit ingots. Worthless. But now he was fascinated. He opened a smaller box at his feet. Blasters that looked like they could have been used in the Clone Wars.

Hopping around carefully, he pulled the tarp off another treasure horde, causing clouds of dust and sediment and Force-knows-what to cover his body and rest in clumps in his hair.

He found more weapons, tools, unfamiliar types of currency, what appeared to be musical instruments, and one crate of vacuum-sealed protein rations. He let out a sigh of relief. He ripped one package open with his lone hand, and took a bite of the pale biscuit it held. It was old and stale, but still palatable. He chewed eagerly. Taste be damned, it would feel good to ease the hunger pangs clutching at his middle.

He opened one more toolbox. Inside were a few spare engine parts, some flight suits, and various wires.

His hand traced the flight suit. It was a faded orange. Maybe Rebellion? He couldn’t tell.

An idea struck him, and he lowered himself onto the tarp.

Struggling with the wire, he tried to remember some of the memories he’d glimpsed of orange in Rey’s dingy hideaway in the Jakku desert. It was always in her periphery. That was home, the only one she had known. The one she had made for herself as a child. His heart clenched in pain for her as he ruminated on it.

He raised the clump of wire and, using his free hand, twisted it until it had five distinct points with a skinny span in the middle. There wasn’t much to it. He tugged at the hem of the flight suit, using his teeth and a small pocket knife to assist, and he began to rip strips of the fabric. When that was done, he reached for the sleeve of his own suit, and, using the knife, carefully began to cut the patch off the sleeve.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, head resting on the balled-up scraps of his old black First Order clothing, but when he awoke again in the middle of the night, there was a half-formed orange rag doll resting on his chest. It bore the Resistance firebird tied around its middle.

He opened the nearest crate and tucked it away before turning off the candledroid, and waiting for whatever new dreams would claim him. He dreamt of sand as far as the eye could see and a little pilot guiding his way through it. 

Poe pulled into the hangar in time to see Rey waving at him as she retreated into the base. He waved back at her as he came to a stop, peeled off his goggles and turned off the engine, a strange haze still clouding his mind.

He looked behind him out the hangar doors as he had the other night with Seth and Taj.

Now that he had heard from Rey, they seemed so paranoid, pathetic, even, but he had been so eager to trust them before. Why?

Perhaps he was looking for a solution to all of this. He had been so on edge since he landed back at the old base and felt so desperate for peace of mind that he was willing to believe even the most outlandish nonsense from the grunts. Why hadn’t he gone to her with his fears sooner?

He had hoped this evening would empower him to think more clearly, force him to focus on the here and now. Something about joining one of those makeshift patrols with Finn would clear his head, set the record straight, and prove it was just nothing: shadows and furies and nightmares that made him feel a creeping dread on this planet. On his way back to base, he was hopeful that his conversation with Rey would nullify the nerves that had been nipping at him since his conversation with Seth and Taj and even before that.

If Rey said it was nothing, it was nothing.

He looked out into the silent, black forest again.

Then why did it feel like something was there?

His head was still so hazy that he just sat on his bike and ran his hands through his hair, massaging his scalp as he went.

Why did it feel like his head was not his own?

When had he felt like this before?

He thought back to the other night. He walked to the crates by the door and took a seat, looking out at the woods. He let Seth’s words come back to him.

_“The Supreme Leader was not in that TIE when it caught fire.”_

_“Taj and I have our suspicions that the bastard just up and walked away from the whole damn thing.”_

_“The Supreme Leader of the First Order survives a TIE crash from the upper atmosphere and walks away from it, right? Would you want to go after a monster like that?”_

In his mind, Poe could see the stark black helmeted head wrapped in black cowl gazing down at him, the sleek chrome plating highlighting the fires burning around them.

He remembered waking up dazed to that mask in his face, his body in pain and his head aflame in anguish as his memories were picked through. As if the masked face were hiding a hungry bird of prey, combing through his skull and picking away at the morsels it could use.

He remembered the haze he felt after, the residual effect of having your mind tampered with manifests as a fogginess, the haze of your consciousness trying to remember what belongs to it as it to reorders all the thoughts that had been scrambled.

Poe remembers feeling the fingerprints of the monster touching things in his mind like a sloppy thief.

He could almost feel it now.

He knew it. In the forest. It had happened out there, and the sting of it, however minor, was his mind warning him to be vigilant.

Kylo Ren was still alive, and he had been in Poe’s head again. He stood up suddenly, bolting away from the speeder bike, away from the hangar doors, and into the base as quickly as he could run, barely remembering to shut the doors behind him, locking himself and the rest of the Resistance away from the monster he was sure now lived.

  
It took a few moments to get connected, but Poe released an audible sigh of relief when the call finally connected to the new base, several systems away.

He barely had time to process the individual standing weightless before him before he launched into a wordy, and sometimes rambling, explanation of the circumstances. He held back no details.

His discomfort with Takodana.

Seth. Taj.

Rey’s strange behavior.

He was practically breathless by the time he arrived at the point, but his audience had not broken her attention from him.

“Look, I know it all probably sounds a bit paranoid, but you know I wouldn’t call you out here for nothing. I have reason to believe the Supreme Leader...Kylo Ren lives, and he poses a very real threat to the Resistance. To me. To my friends.”

Poe froze, staring at his hands. The blue light of the holo feed illuminated his features. He looked like a man haunted.

“To Rey, especially. If she can’t sense him here, what are the rest of us to do?”

He looked back up at the phantom figure.

“If you think the danger has passed and you could get out here, I’d appreciate it. I want this put to rest.”

“As do I. Your reasoning seems sound, Captain Dameron. I’ll try to get passage to you as soon as I can.”

Poe beamed, feeling relief seem to flood his chest, which had been too tight and constricted lately.

“Thank you, really. Your confidence in me...it means more than I can say. I hope it’s nothing.”

“For all our sakes,” Leia said. “So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe's just pissed he didn't think to have his own cabin in the woods to hide hot guys in. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She stole a kiss from the crook of his neck. His fingers digging into her side sent her a plea.
> 
> His voice was a deep rumble in her mind. _I want to be everything. Everything you desire._
> 
> Her voice in his was resolute, musical. _You already are._

_O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming._  
Twelfth Night, Act II.III

* * *

 

Rey was not a vain woman. Growing up on Jakku had starved out that particular personality flaw before it even budded. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t concerned about her appearance, just that she usually didn’t let it consume her. Today, however...

After her last...intimate encounter with Ben, she was suddenly very concerned about her appearance.

Upon returning to her room after her flight through the forest, she had stood before the little mirror in her ‘fresher for a solid half hour, scrutinizing every freckle, every stray hair, every bony angle of her body. She had gone to bed soon after, exhausted but unable to relax for the insecurities circling her thoughts like relentless steelpeckers.

Knowing Ben, he’d want to reciprocate her attentions from earlier, she thought with a blush. What if he had expectations of the women he was intimate with, expectations that she might not be able to meet easily with her limited supplies and lack of exposure to civilization? When they had been on Canto Bight, she’d had access to an attendant droid that had plucked and primped and primed her to the very vision of perfection. Or at least as perfect as she could manage.

Sleep had claimed her eventually but not before she resolved to give herself a thorough once over in the ‘fresher before she went to see him again. Her dreams were full of a beautiful and scornful face that looked remarkably like her own on the arm of an elegant shadow in a mask and surrounded by bejeweled dignitaries, laughing down at a dusty little girl covered in freckles and rags.

 _Skinny little scavenger,_ they hissed between rouged lips.

 _Jakku trash_ , spat Lady Viré.

 _Nothing_ , growled the mask of the Supreme Leader.

She had awoken with a snap, just as tired as she’d been when she had laid down hours before. Her datapad was blessedly free of assignments for the day; the weather had already taken a turn for the stormy before she woke up so any scouting and larger ship repairs were suspended until the rain passed. Her normally fanatical devotion to a good rainstorm had been deadened by the rising butterflies in her stomach. Rain meant free time, free time meant Ben, Ben meant...

Which brought Rey to her current conundrum. She had been standing under the weak stream of water in her ‘fresher for what must have been hours, scrubbing her skin pink with rationed soap that apparently smelled like _fresh_ and combing her fingers furiously through her wet hair. All the while she stared down the razor sitting on the shelf in front of her. When she couldn’t wash anything else, she finally grabbed the inoffensive piece of gray plastisteel and with a deep breath, set to her task, remembering all too well the stinging paths that W4 had taken to appropriately smooth her legs and underarms for the gala.

The water had gone cold by the time she left the ‘fresher stall. She caught a glimpse of herself in the steamed mirror and sighed. She looked little and tired, nothing like the beauty she’d been six months ago, if only for a night.

A gentler part of her mind, the one that sounded like Ben’s voice, reminded her softly that he loved her no matter what she looked like. She let that thought warm her as she dressed, packed her bag with provisions, and left her room.

As she strode out into the hall, a familiar presence startled her.

“Where you off to, Jedi lady?”

Rose was leaning casually against her door frame, scanning Rey suspiciously, though without a trace of malice.

“Oh hey, Rose,” Rey replied with a smile. “Nowhere, really, just out into the woods. I wanted to explore a bit more. Besides, you know how much I like the rain.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I know it. But you know what the brass says about being out in storms like these. Mudslides and flooding and all that.”

She stood up straighter, summoning her courage. “I’m just glad...I’m glad one of us got to see you before you decided to bolt without telling us. Again.”

Rey flinched. “Guess you talked to Poe, then…”

“Finn first, then Poe for a bit. I just know better than to expect you to warn us when you disappear. They still do, for some reason.”

“Thanks for that,” Rey said with a weak gust of a laugh. “At least someone on base trusts me not to get lost or killed or seduced by a Dark side space ghost.”

Rose did not laugh. She regarded her friend coldly, and despite her stature, seemed to command Rey’s full attention for a solid minute while she stood, silently assessing Rey from boot to head.

Rey hoped the hair around her shoulders concealed any bruising that might have appeared on her neck thanks to Ben the night before.

Rose’s iciness seemed to melt after a moment, and her posture relaxed.

“Look, Rey, I’m not Poe. I’m not a commander, not your superior. I’m your friend. I hope I’m as much a friend to you as those guys, even though I was, you know, unconscious when you met me.”

She looked down at her feet, her supply of courage temporarily drained.

“Just...I want you to know you can tell me.”

Rose paused again, stepping further out into the hall. She tilted her chin up and met her friend’s stare.

“You can tell me where you go. You can tell me what’s really going on. I’ll believe you. You can avoid the guys all you want. I get it. I do. They’re a hassle. But you don’t have to avoid me. You can tell me what’s wrong. If it’s us, if it’s something else. Please.”

Her eyes scanned Rey’s face.

“Be honest with me.”

A lump of truth lodged in Rey’s throat. This...this was an opportunity to come clean, without judgment. Something she may never have again. Months of lies, avoiding her friends’ piercing looks and burrowing questions, nights lying awake with guilt gnawing at her belly. Rose’s soft dark eyes and gentle nature wanted to draw it all out of her.

She took a deep breath. She let it all go.

“It...it isn’t you guys. You’re wonderful and I love you all and I am…” She choked for a moment. “I am so sorry for what I’ve put you through. I don’t deserve you all. The truth is…”

Ah yes, the truth. A foreign concept for her these days.

“The truth is...I met someone, months back, when I dropped off the scanners for a day. We’ve been separated since then but he...made planetfall a little while ago. So I’ve been meeting him out in the woods because we can’t meet here on base. It isn’t...it isn’t safe.”

The words left her in a torrent of sound and she nearly sobbed at the release of it.

“The truth is that I’m head over heels in love with him and I don’t know how this is going to work between us. But I love him.” It was the first time she had ever admitted it to another being besides Ben. “I love him so much and I’m terrified to lose him, Rose.”

Her eyes were shining when she looked back at her friend. Rey felt as though a space station had been lifted off her chest.

“Now you know. That’s why I’ve been running out into the woods at all hours without telling anyone. It’s been making me sick to lie to you all for so long and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness--”

“No,” Rose said, raising a hand abruptly. “No, I mean, thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

She smiled. “I know it’s hard to have secrets here. And even harder to admit to the truth when we’re packed in elbow to elbow. And being emotionally vulnerable in the vicinity of some of these guys is rough. I mean, have you met Poe? He grew up in this environment, and look what it did to him.”

Rose looked away. “I know how scary it feels to fall in love and not be sure if or how it will work. If it’s worth giving away so much of yourself to someone else, someone who can hurt it and discard that part of you without as much as a thought. We’re in the middle of war. Nothing is certain. No matter how we feel.”

Rose reached for Rey’s hand.

“But I believe you. And I believe _in_ you. This guy...he sounds like he’s worth fighting for.”

 

  
Rey’s rain poncho didn’t stay on her for long once she left the base. It whipped wetly behind her as she sped through the woods toward the cabin. The sight of it empty made her heart clench a bit, a vestigial pang of worry despite the fact that she knew where Ben was: safe and away from here. Shaking off her reverie, she rolled the old pallet and blanket up as tightly as she could, wrapping it and her pack in the thick cloak and lashing it closed with some old cables that she had salvaged. When she was satisfied that her supplies would survive the increasing rain, she strapped it to the back of her speeder and took off deeper into the forest.

Thunder rolled distantly above her, the heavy clouds darkening her surroundings into a gray-green pallor. Her mind still stung from the cruel dreams she had woken up to, but she let the chill of the rain soaking through her clothes wash the images and hateful words away, imagining them flying off in her wake like bits of muck being cleaned from her skin. The cave wasn’t far off, and she didn’t want to burden Ben with her own insecurities.

The rocky outcropping came into sight and she pulled her speeder off to leave it behind a large boulder. If someone had followed her out here, she didn’t want her speeder to lead them to Ben’s hideout. Hoisting her bundle over her shoulder, she made her way down the rock formation toward the mouth of the cave.

Rey could feel his presence nearby; a calm current in the worsening storm. As she approached the cave, she froze.

 

It was early, Ben knew that much. He hadn't slept well in the cave, partially because his patched-together bones ached from sleeping on the rock floor, partially out of residual worry for Rey. The cabin, at least, had given him a sense of time based off the position of the sun and the light around him. Now, tucked away deep in the cave, the watery light that flooded in past the tall rocks that stood defensively around the mouth of the cave gave Ben no sense of the hour.

Sitting up carefully so not to disturb his clavicle, he rubbed his sore back with his good hand. This particular pain could be attributed to little else but age. He felt dusty and itchy from the tarp.

He thought, as he often did, of the pretty scavenger-turned-Jedi who saved him time and again. The woman he loved. He fiddled with the ribbon, which had survived the flight to the cave and still glowed faintly from her light. He knew he was further away from Rey than he had been in the cabin, and it caused an ache of longing to seize him. He had felt the bond between them strengthening over the last few days; perhaps his conscious decision to sever their connection had made it harder for them to reconnect across distances, even after they had forgiven each other enough to open their minds to one another.

He wanted to call out to her, to see if he could still appear before her, but he thought better of it. She was at the base. She could be with friends. He didn’t want to scare her or worry her by intruding. He hoped she didn’t think of him as an intrusion.

He instead adjusted his body to eat another ration pack. This time he found one of the ones she had packed for him for the evening. He smiled at her thoughtfulness.

As he ate, he reached into the pocket on his left hip for the note he had stowed away. With a flick of his fingers, he turned the light on again.

_I'll be thinking of you until I get back. Don't re-break anything while I'm gone._

He smoothed out the folded paper carefully on his good thigh to read the rest, his eyes scanning the beautiful words over and over until he could practically mimic the writing from memory.

_I love you._

_Your Rey_

When he had finished eating, he tucked the note away in the crate alongside the doll he was still piecing together, then looked down at his flight suit in the dull light. The tan fabric was coated with streaks of red dirt. He could feel it under his undershirt and in between the folds of the bandages against his chest. He sighed. He needed another shower. His skin was crying for one. He just didn't know how to ask Rey. After their stolen intimacy the previous night, he would feel like a child to ask her to bathe him again.

He wanted her hands on him, of course; her boldness before she left him was appreciated deep in his core. But he didn't like feeling completely helpless in her presence.

He rose slowly to his feet, using the rough walls of the cave for support, then called the staff to his hand. He hobbled over to the entrance of the cave, careful of the bumps on the ground that had almost sent him sprawling the night before. He gazed out into the forest. It had been hard to predict the time earlier due to the grey haze. He felt the gentle patter of raindrops against his face. Perfect timing.

He slipped back inside and, setting himself carefully back down, began digging through his things. He found the soap and razor Rey had given him the last time. Easy enough; he would be able to bathe himself and be clean for when Rey returned. And after she arrives…

He thought dreamily of her hands on him the night before. The tenderness she had shown him. The wanting. He could feel the heat rising in his groin just remembering it.

But he felt a tightness in his gut.

When she returns...they hadn’t spoken about the specifics, but he could easily guess what would follow. A powerful blush colored his cheeks at the thought of it. His body had been a weapon for so long, a tool, just like his lightsaber. He hadn’t really indulged in its more pleasurable functions with anyone else.

Surely Rey had seen inside his head. Surely she knew that, so he wouldn’t have to tell her that he was completely inexperienced. He was sure she wouldn’t mind. She was Rey, his Rey. She wouldn’t mind if he struggled. She wouldn’t be afraid to tell him what she needed. But he wanted her to feel as good as she had made him feel, if she still wanted him like this.

Either way. Even if she just wanted to check in on him and tell him stories and look at his wounds and tease him, he wanted to look nice for her. Let her see him for who he was, beyond the black garb of the Supreme leader or the bacta patches and borrowed jumpsuits. Let her see him for _him_. Whoever that was.

He unwrapped the bandage around his right shoulder with care, and with both hands free, he began to unwrap the bandages over his leg. He looked down at his lap. He couldn't help but notice the discolored splotches that had dried on on his front. His flight suit could use a wash as well. With the rocks concealing to the entrance to the cave, he could likely leave his clothing in the rain for a quick wash. Determined, he freed his leg with some haste before slipping himself out his suit and shirt. Carefully, he pulled his underwear over his splint and rewrapped the bandages over his left leg for additional support,

Leaning heavily against the staff, he slowly rose again. He limped carefully over to the mouth of the cave, his bare feet scraping against the rough stone. He clutched the soap and razor in his right fist, his arm tucked close to his side. He used the Force to drape his clothing over a rock near the opening to let the rain wash it off.

He emerged out into the rain, alone in the forest for the first time since his crash. It was a slower rain then the last time, each drop distinctive. He took a few more pained steps out before turning towards the mouth of the cave and resting the staff against the side of the cliff. Supporting himself with his left arm, he tilted his face towards the rain again. Bliss.

He let the cool water against his face carry him away, out of his tired body and fearful mind into a calm place in the Force. Balanced. Silent. He stayed there for a long moment.

Then he felt the Force ripple. Her.

She was close.

Within moments, he felt her gaze on his bare backside, the rain cutting streaks through the sand and grit on his skin.

He could have tried to hobble away when he felt her drawing near, but he knew there was so point. He didn't have any way to cover himself; with his clothes draped on the rocks around him, he only had the dusty tarp inside the cave.

He gripped the soap tighter in his hand for courage. She had doubtless seen his naked back the last time he had showered, but that was after she had casually remarked about seeing nude men as just examples of human anatomy. They had learned the intimate sensations of the other, the secret hungers and wants. This was different, and though he felt nervous, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest, he would not be afraid of her eyes on him.

No more talk of corruptions, jests about decency. He knew the feeling of her hands on his body. He wanted it again. He was hers.

He turned his head towards her, then carefully pivoted to face her, his right hand supporting his weight against the rock. His eyes, warm and a bit fearful, met hers.

All words died on her tongue when he turned to face her. Rain and dirt and soap sluiced down his form, drawing her eyes with each droplet carving stripes in the grime. He looked more like an ancient forgotten deity than a man, marble muscles practically glowing in the odd light of the forest thunderstorm. The only thing that betrayed his mortal nature was the splint and bandage on his leg. His eyes were like coals on her face, searching and silent with the intense heat of his gaze.

She just stood there, her pack dangling limply from her fingers, the rain soaking her through to the bone. She shivered, but it was not from the cold. Her cheeks flushed, but it was not from embarrassment. Her heart stopped, but it was not from fear.

She did not take her eyes off him as she finally convinced her feet to walk slowly towards him. They had no need for shame anymore, no need for excuses or lies or last minute indecision. She was his.

  
He was wretched. She was radiant, a newborn star casting her impeccable light in an unworthy galaxy. She had given him everything. He had nothing left to offer her, but himself. He extended a sudsy hand.

The pack floated absentmindedly from her hand into the cave mouth. Without breaking his gaze, she took his hand.

He gently pulled her into his orbit, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, take shelter from the rain in the protection of his towering form.

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss against her knuckles. He closed his eyes briefly to savor her touch, then opened them again. An invitation.

She flipped their hands to return the caress on the inside of his wrist, his pulse fluttering under her lips. An acceptance.

He called the soap again to his hand and offered it to her.

She took the bar with a small smile, her eyes sparkling in the gray light. She lathered up her hands, watching his face intently for any signs of discomfort as she started her ministrations at his neck. He closed his eyes slowly, savoring her touch. Satisfied that he was still comfortable, she let her eyes follow her hands over his body, taking in every contour, every inch of pale skin.

They skated delicately down his shoulders, feather light on his broken collarbone, before slowly traveling further downward onto his chest. His pectoral muscles were firm under her hands, his nipples pebbling from the chill or her fingers.

Her touch lightened again and hesitated as her hands found his rib cage, concerned for the fractured bones hiding beneath healed bruises. He took a deep breath, as if pushing himself more firmly into her hands, reassuring her that he wanted every caress she gave. She stopped there for a moment, eyes closed and savoring the vital current flowing under her palms, the reality of him being able to do something so mundane as breathing suddenly sacred. Most of her soapy trail had already been rinsed away by the rain, and she leaned in to rest her ear against his chest, listening deeply to the song of his heart and the forest and the storm.

His deep, solemn breath echoing in his chest was the sound of waves beating against the shore, the rhythm steady and sure. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and his fingers became ensnared in her wet hair. He anchored her to him, willing her to stay. As the rain purified him, her hands marked him, wiping away the dirt as they skated over his lonely, untouched parts.

She melted into him as her hands curved around his ribs and slipped up his back, hugging him tightly to her. She turned her head and pressed a single kiss over his heart, letting her love linger on his skin.

_Mine._

He couldn't imagine what she wanted with him. He did not deserve her. But he did not allow this thought to take root in his mind. She was here with him. He didn't need to doubt himself; she had chosen him despite his failings. She had come to him because of what he was.

His skin was aflame where her lips had marked him. He buried his face in the top of her head, planting soft, certain kisses on her scalp, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mingling with the air of forest sinking into her skin.

Rey had never felt so warm yet so cold in her life. She tilted her head up and smiled into his sweet, stubbled face, running a hand affectionately against the roughness on his cheek. He smiled weakly, his hand resting against the nape of her neck, then pressed a chaste kiss against her cheekbone. It hummed with a gentle, radiating pulse of quiet joy, a soft glow of contentment.

She shivered at the softness of his caress, the tickle of his beard against her skin, the chill of the rain, the proximity of their bodies. Her eyes on him were dark and intent and spoke volumes though no words passed between them. She wanted him. She ached for him.

He met her stare. He would have carried her into the cave and begun pleasuring her that instant if he'd had the strength. Alas.

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and pressed a kiss to her lips, firm and loving but also needing. She tasted like the rain.

She sighed softly into the kiss, her eyes slipping closed. She let herself record every sensation: the drip of rain that ran down the back of her neck, the pleasant scratch of his scruff on her lips and cheeks, his hand laid gently against her neck, his thumb smoothing little strokes at the soft skin behind her jaw. She wanted to keep these feelings in her soul forever.

The kiss deepened and then ebbed, and when he broke away again, he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling her cool, damp skin. His hand found purchase on the curve of her lower back, its favorite place.

He sighed contentedly.

_Rey..._

He knew what she wanted. He could feel it radiating off of her. He hoped he could provide it.

 _Ben..._ she whispered into his mind.

She felt his insecurities through the Force and brought her hand up to rub soothingly at the base of his skull.

 _You are all that I need_ , her fingers whispered into his hair.

She stole a kiss from the crook of his neck. His fingers digging into her side sent her a plea.

His voice was a deep rumble in her mind. _I want to be everything. Everything you desire._

Her voice in his was resolute, musical. _You already are._

She smoothed his wet hair back from his face. He kissed her deeper and hungrier than he thought possible. He felt the lingering dust and dirt clinging to his chest and arms transfer onto her wet clothing as he pressed her close to him. His good hand slipped even lower on her backside, his intent clear: he wanted her, all of her.

She returned his kisses with equal fervor, savoring the taste of him. She pulled back slowly, her eyes fixed on his. Stepping out of his arms, she backed away, beckoning toward the cave. She knew he would follow her; his eyes on her back assured her of that.

The cave was cool despite the warm light from the little candledroid. She shivered a bit as she set to unfurling the pallet and blanket on top of the old tarp. This was happening, she realized with a flush.

He stood in the mouth of the cave, leaning on the staff and watching her make a bed for him. For them.

He limped slowly towards her, feeling his physical limitations gnawing at his eager mind. He wanted her. He only hoped he could provide what she wanted, too.

He shivered a bit; perhaps it was the cave chilling his bare body. As he stood over Rey, he knew that wasn't the case.

She felt him behind her, a tower of heat. She rose, turning to him with desire smoldering in her eyes. With slow, deliberate movements, she crossed her arms over her shirt and peeled the drenched garment over her head. It landed with a slap against the stone floor. Her thin breast band left nothing to the imagination, her nipples hard and on view through the now nearly invisible white fabric. She resisted the urge to cover herself; they were beyond that now.

Her flight suit had descended as the wet fabric became too heavy to hold itself up on her slim hips. It was all too easy to slip it off, and she toed off her boots as she stepped out of the mass of waterlogged canvas.

She stood before him in nothing but her basics and her arm wraps now. In all her skinny, freckled, rain-soaked glory. Her eyes searched his face for a reaction.

He froze, his eyes soft as he scanned her, observing the pieces of her he had only glimpsed before and the hidden parts he had only dreamt of, only felt between layers of fabrics both fine and coarse. His heart stuck in his throat, and he sucked in a silent gasp of air.

Where he was large and bulbous, she was slender and angular, slight but powerful. He could see the muscles under her skin, true, but also a softness, a distinctly feminine roundness about her torso. The staff slipped out of his hand without him realizing it, clattering against the ground as he reached for her, pressing his palm on the dip of her hip, feeling the chilled skin beneath him. Moving slowly, he trailed his fingers up the curve of her waist, following the little valleys between her ribs. His knuckles just barely brushed the underside of her breast and she shivered. His gaze left searing pathways on her bare flesh.

His head tilted curiously, he moved to her arms, wrapped in the dun-colored linens she had borne since she fled Jakku. His fingers slid down her arm to where the fabric terminated at her wrist. With a gentle nudge, he lifted her arm. Carefully, he untucked the hidden end and diligently unwound the arm wrap, baring her cooled, delicate skin to his perusal.

This was skin that hadn’t seen as much of the harsh Jakku sun as the rest of her. It was mostly unmarred by the little nicks and etched scars that seemed to crosshatch her body in other places. He coiled the fabric around his fist as he worked, his eyes never leaving his task. First one bundle dropped to the floor, then the other. More parts of her bared to him.

His good hand returned to its spot on her hip, his thumb skimming lazily over the hard ridge of bone.

"Mesh'la," he whispered, eyes dancing over her face. _Beautiful._

His hand branded its shape into her skin; his words left their own mark on her heart. She flushed delicately, her side of the bond humming with delight. Her hands alighted on his chest, his heart pounding beneath her palms. She searched his mind for the words.

“Mureyca ni,” she replied. _Kiss me._

He let out a growl, a mix of surprise and delight, and pressed his mouth feverishly to hers. She met him with equal enthusiasm, and each kiss that passed between them only stoke their wanting more.

Ben's left hand wandered along her back, leaving a trail of warmth as it passed. His freed right hand rested on her hip bone. His arousal brushed against her front, but he did not feel the need for shame or fear. He loved her, boldly and dearly as he dared.

She pressed impossibly closer to his heat, her hips rocking in time with their fervent kisses. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, the foreign language making it bold as she sought new ways to express her desire for him. He sighed through their pressed lips. She reached behind her back to grasp at his hand, moving him up to where she needed his seeking fingers. Her undergarments had suddenly become far too constricting and she needed to be freed.

She could feel his moans reverberate through her lips, and his tongue sought hers, desperate to remove the space dividing them. He felt her growing want, a pulsing cry of frustration from her skin, thrumming against his wandering fingertips. He moved one hand to the center of her back, fingers teasing the damp fabric of her breastband, while his right fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear, and began to trace a line across her hips until his hand came to rest on her bottom, slipping devilishly underneath the garment.

“Ben...” she growled into his mouth, a feral warning.

 _Enough teasing. Take me,_ howled the desert inside her; the consuming, hungry thing that demanded its tribute.

She caught his lower lip in her teeth, letting the delicious little darkness burning in her lower belly out to play. Her fingers knotted in his wet hair, sealing her lips to his and tugging him down to her level as her hips sought out the friction she craved.

He teased his right hand around to the front of her waist band, curls tickling his fingertips. It was a strange sensation, so sacred and private and his alone to enjoy. His breath again hitched, but he could only snarl, his mouth entangled in hers.

A thought occurred to him, an idea sinister in its sensuality. His nails raked her back.

_You trust me?_

Her heart thudded wildly against her ribs at this new touch. She made a muffled whining noise, twisting her body to seek out his clever fingers.

 _Always, beloved. Please,_ she begged.

He released her suddenly and tore his mouth away, leaving her stunned and hungry for a moment, before he took both of her hands in one of his and guided them to rest on his shoulders. Pivoting slowly, he turned her back to the wall of the cave and pressed her close against it, giving her a quick, gentle kiss.

She squeaked. The stone wall was cold and rough against her damp skin, and this new position sent a bolt of worry through her stomach.

 _Ben, love, be careful..._ she warned, concern coloring her tone.

Invisible bindings held her in place as he took a step back, his hand waving lazily at her.

There was something coming over him now, something not quite dark, but distant from the light. An unfamiliar yearning, an all-consuming need. For her.

 _I have you, cyar'ika,_ the voice in her mind rasped hungrily, stepping in closer, his hand tracing a line from her cheek, down to her neck and lingering downwards. _I will take care of you. And if you want to stop, I’ll put you down._

Her breath caught in her throat. This should have terrified her, kicked her instincts into hyperdrive. But the invisible hands bearing her weight were supporting, not constricting. She knew that she wouldn’t fall, not as long as Ben was there. She trusted him.

She let herself relax into his grip, her heart rate picking up speed as his fingers traveled down her body.

His hand stopped at her breastband, and he limped forward the slightest bit, closing whatever space remained between them.

The fingers on his right hand burrowed again against her side, and he nuzzled the pane of her chest, his stubble scraping against the delicate skin before coming to rest against her neck.

He kissed her throat, pausing for breath as he prepared for what he wanted to do next.

"I love you," he mumbled.

She was panting for air again, breathless at the sensations he was creating in her. Her fingers scrambled against his shoulders, seeking purchase against his smooth, wet skin.

“I love you,” she gasped.

He kissed the underside of her jaw, his breath against her skin an affirmation of his love, and began to trail his kisses lower, until he met his left hand on the top of her breast band.

With a quick, forceful tug, he freed her breasts from their binding. His eyes lighted on her bare chest before returning to her face again. A look of wonder crossed his face.

She was beautiful. She was his.

He pressed a kiss to her sternum, and began his worship of her anew.

A loud moan escaped her, his mouth on her unlike anything she’d felt before. She had never thought of her breasts as particularly sensual things, but his thorough exploration of her flesh was quickly changing her mind. Her back arched away from the wall, pushing herself closer to him.

He enjoyed the pleasure radiating off of her, her body writing to get more and more of his touch. He opened his mouth wider to let his tongue explore more of her left breast, his thumb caressing her right nipple until it hardened under his touch. He let out a hum of pleasure, his right hand again beginning its meandering along her waist, his fingers brushing over the patch over fabric covering the wispy hairs between her legs.

The Jedi training was good for something, he thought. His patience was astounding; he was enjoying every inch of her, working slowly. He was well-behaved. Unusual for him.

She roiled and twisted like a wild thing, little gasps and moans slipping past her parted lips. Her left hand caught in his hair and held him fast to her chest. She raked the nails of her free hand across his back. Stars, if this was even a fraction of how good it could feel…

He briefly felt that she was still anchored to the wall despite her enraptured squirming, and began the tedious process of lowering his body down to the ground. He curled his right leg into a crouch, lowering his injured leg to the ground, then slowly pressed his bound leg again the wall so he was sitting below her, his hands still teasing her breast and belly.

He pressed his face against her stomach, feeling the softness of her flesh, enjoying the tangles of her fingers and the pricking against his back. He closed his eyes and sighed. Bliss.

Rey struggled to take a deep breath, Ben’s attention left her dizzy from oxygen deprivation. She peered down at him with bleary eyes, the color high in her cheeks and flushed across her collarbones.

“Ben?” she murmured hoarsely. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t foresee his next move. She was entirely at his mercy.

He cast a strange, sleepy smile up at her, marveling at the incredible body she was sharing with him. Giving to him.

"Rey," he said, his voice rumbling against her skin.

She squirmed again, his wide hands tightening around her waist in an attempt to keep her still.

“ _R’iia,_ Ben, stop teasing me plea—“

He cut her off, kissing her pubic bone as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear.

"If you insist," he muttered into her thigh, and his hands tugged, removing the last layer of clothing separating them. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he pulled the garment down past her knees and tossed it aside, finally pausing to look at her as she cautiously opened her legs for him.

Her plea strangled in her throat as the heat of his breath mingled with the heat of her core. She was completely bare to him now, but she couldn’t think clearly enough to care.

She was utterly perfect, and his heart ached with gratitude that she had chosen him, unworthy as he was, to touch her, please her, love her with whatever his broken body and fragmented heart could manage.

He ran his hand through her dark curls, wet and slick from his teasing and her unbridled wanting.

Soon. But not yet.

He took a leg in each of his hands and pulled them over his shoulders so his face rested between them, careful to mind his clavicle. His tongue began tracing thin lines along the muscle of her right thigh, feeling the soft skin against his coarse cheeks. His eyes darted up to her face for her approval.

Rey threw her head back, nearly screaming her pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes, _stars_ Ben, please,” she sobbed, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He chuckled, then turned his face to her cunt. He let his hand wander first, tracing again her dark, wet hair to the opening of her lips, soft and beautiful and hers. His large index finger separated her folds, tracing for the source of the wetness. He felt her squirm as his touch, and he tilted his head to rest against her thigh as he gazed curiously as her, admiring the strange organs he had only seen in educational holoprograms, or, in his more adventurous teen years, the rare pornographic ones.

He felt through the folds of skin for the opening, and then traced his finger back towards him for the little bundle of nerves he knew he couldn't miss.

He knew when the pad of his finger found it; Rey squirmed and gasped and swore.

He kissed her pubic bone again, his lips buried in her hair. He sent her a pulse of affection.

“Ben...” she moaned, a high and desperate wail.

He hummed against her pelvis, a small melody of contentment and calming, before his tongue slid out to rest between her legs, darting between her labia and seeking out her pleasure as he went.

She tried to keep her hips from bucking into his face, but she found that she no longer had control over her body. He had bewitched her entirely, tracing spells into her skin with his fingers and unraveling her sanity with his tongue. Now she was utterly under his control.

He felt her writhe again above him, her voice little more than a breathy, airy mix of pleas and swears and hungry, frantic moans. He felt her on his tongue, damp and new and sweet, and as he slid his left arm around her thigh and pressed a comforting, commanding palm on her stomach, his mouth found a rhythm as it traveled over her opening and inside the folds of skin.

His mouth soon found her clitoris, and with a sharp flick of his tongue, began to appreciate it, too.

Her insides were on fire, blazing as he stoked the flames with his tongue. One hand left his hair and grabbed for the rock wall at her back. The sounds babbling from her mouth were incoherent and wanton as he steadily dragged her pleasure out from deep inside her. She had the sense of a spring coiled in her belly, wound tighter and tighter with each flick of his masterful tongue.

He opened his mind and let the Force filter his thoughts. She was an ocean, and he was swimming in the sensations of her, taste and earthy scent and heat, flowing over his lips and in his mind, rapture curling around his spine and in his own groin. He bobbed with the waves of pleasure ripping away control of her muscles, feeling her delight under his skin. He slipped his tongue into her opening, and he felt as if she was crashing above him. He chuckled, but continued.

His laugh vibrated against her and her legs clenched around his head reflexively. The sensations in her core were so acute yet so pervasive, spreading a liquid icy heat that settled in her feet and fingertips. The coil in her gut pulled tighter.

He felt her body tense, and he slid his tongue in and out a few more times, a steady rhythm, before he pulled his mouth away, a silver strand of fluid dripping off his reddened lips.

"Beautiful," he gasped.

"Cyar'ika," he panted.

He moved to massage her clit with his tongue, his fingers sliding back into her. He built the friction in rhythm with his tongue, a careful meditation, his mind tuned into her pleasure.

He let his good hand travel up to fondle her breast again, brushing his fingers against her rosy nipple.

"Come for me," he growled, returning his mouth to finish her.

She screamed his name when the spring finally snapped. Heat and light flooded her body and she thought dimly for a moment how orgasms looked and felt like lightspeed as stars smeared past her vision. The force of her orgasm nearly doubled her over off the cave wall, but Ben held her fast as he worked her through each wave of shuddering pleasure.

His mouth, burrowed deep between her legs, lips and tongue dancing over her folds and clit and into her wet vaginal slit, did not cease its caresses until he felt the climax pass and her body relax again into the grip of the Force. He sent her warm bursts of pride and encouragement as her trembling subsided.

Her breath emerging in shaky gasps, he pulled his lips away, burrowing his face in her warm, glistening belly once more.

"Ma mesh'la," he purred, his hand returning to trace lazy circles on her hip. "Ma cyar'ika."  
She looked down at him, glowing and breathless and smiling hazily. She stroked his hair back from his face, the ends still damp from the rain.

“Ben,” she breathed. “My Ben. My beloved. Mine...”

He pushed himself back until he was seated on the middle of the pallet, and then he pulled her down from the cave wall until she was kneeling in front of him. He beamed, then wrapped his arms around around her middle, burying his face between her breasts and holding her with all his strength.

He was being swept away by her glow, into a wave of the Force, of light and joy that was both shocking and new and terrifying in its familiarity, the wholeness of belonging lost to time, now coming back in a consuming tidal wave. She was his anchor, and he clung to her.

 _Yours, Rey,_ he told her, his eyes drifting closed against her skin. _Yours always._

She tugged his face away from her chest to kiss him soundly and deeply. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue. She held onto him for dear life, still coming down from the high of her climax. When she pulled back again, her cheeks were flushed and she was grinning as she let out a breathy laugh.

“Stars, I want to do that again,” she whispered, pressing little kisses all over his face.

"Just tell me when," he mumbled into her ear. He forgot his own yearning, the blood pooling uncomfortably between his own legs. He was consumed with the light radiating off of her, a perfect contact high.

Rey had not forgotten about Ben’s needs in her ecstasy. Moving carefully on shaky legs, she straddled his thighs, mindful of the splint. She looked down adoringly at his face, before pushing lightly on his unbroken shoulder until he fell safely back against the old pallet.

“So eager...” she purred from her vantage point above him. “Let me take care of you first, my love.”

She let her eyes wander unabashedly. She’d tried to preserve his modesty before, even as she bathed him in the rain, but now she wanted to see all of him, to piece together the beautiful broken parts of this man she loved. She let her hands trail across his chest, her fingers slipping deftly over the ridges of his abdominal muscles as she traced her eyes’ path down his body.

His erection rested against his stomach, hard and hot and aching to be touched. She couldn’t deny him that. She hadn’t seen his cock the last time she’d touched him, but it was rather like what she had blushingly imagined it would look like. He was a big man, and everything about him seemed proportional to that measurement, especially once she took him in hand and stroked him to full arousal, a strangled cry of joy escaping his throat. She wondered absently how the two of them would fit together.

Sitting above him, she was resplendent in the amber light, and he felt her lingering pleasure singing through their connection and pulsing through his veins. He watched with wonder as she began to feel her way across his torso and down to his bare waist, where she had explored only with her hands before. She accepted him, all that he could give her. She loved him, for all he was.

She sent sparks of pleasure through him as her hand began to slide along the length of his cock again, and he shut his eyes, feeling the tenderness of each caress.

His fingers wrapped around her thigh and buttocks, holding her firmly, lest he come unmoored from his body and drift away.

 _Mine..._ he thought absently.

She let him go and leaned down over him, propping herself up on her hands so she could kiss him languidly. Her slick core ground against the hard length of him and she moaned quietly at the sweet friction.

He gasped against her lips, his grip on her thighs tightening. He felt his mind drift further away; he was possessed by his own body, its need too strong to ignore.

Careful so as not to disturb his broken leg, he pulsed his hips to meet her grinding. The sensation was overpowering.

Earlier, he might have reflected on his own weakness, that he could not hold her, support her body while they made love. Believed himself a failure in her eyes. But he felt the lust and joy rolling off her, and the doubt was not even permitted to surface in his mind.

She pulled back to catch his gaze, her eyes dark and liquid with the kind of love that she couldn’t put into words.

 _Ben,_ she murmured softly in his mind. _Beloved...I need you. I want you. I love you._

She straightened up slowly on her knees, her eyes never leaving his, seeking his approval as she positioned herself over his cock.

Removing his hand from her thigh, he took his cock in his hand and guided it beneath her.

 _Let me in,_ a dark voice commanded in her head, but when she looked at him his eyes were soft with love, edged with hunger.

His fingers tapped against her thigh, a gentle command.

She slowly sank down onto him, her lips parting in a silent cry as he filled her inch by exquisite inch. Her hands grabbed for his forearms in search of support. She wanted to take this slow, make the indescribable feeling of him entering her last forever. Her thighs trembled with the effort and she also wanted nothing more than to just drop the rest of the way onto him, feel him bottom out inside of her, take him into herself as deep as their anatomy would allow. She wanted all of him.

He raised his hips as much as he could to meet her, the room blurring in a delirious haze as she slid down the length of his cock.

His breath was a shudder, and the fingers on his right hand burrowed deeper into the soft flesh of her thigh. His left hand met hers, and he wove their fingers together.

_My love._

Her strength finally gave way, her hips dropped, and _yes._

His mind was then taken over by her, her pleasure mingling with his until he was swept away by wave after wave of sensation.

He lifted his hips slowly, feeling the fullness of her around him, then rested them back against the pallet.

A groan escaped him. All pain and soreness in his body was gone. All he felt was her.

Her fingers flexed frantically in his grip, unable to comprehend how good it felt to be so deeply connected. She could feel the empty spots inside her body and mind filling themselves in with him. She knew she would not be able to let him go after this.

Breathing hard, she stared down at her lover’s face. His pale skin was flushed, his lips bitten red and soft from her kisses, loving little bruises blossomed down his neck. And his eyes were as dark as space but nowhere near as empty; they overflowed with love of _her_ , passion for _her_ , wanting _her_.

“A-are you alright?” she breathed, nearly whimpering as her internal muscles clenched involuntarily around him.

He smiled, an expression once so foreign now a habit in her presence. He brought their interlocked hands to his lips, placing delirious kisses on each of her knuckles. He closed his eyes and rocked his hips again before he spoke.

"This is...is the best I've ever felt," he panted, a satisfied, wistful grin creasing his face, before his expression shifted to one of concern.

He dropped her fingers and reached a hand toward her face.

"Is something wrong?"

She laughed breathlessly, leaning into his touch.

“Nothing,” she murmured, drunk off the feeling of him. “Everything is perfect.”

She shifted her hips experimentally, and a bolt of pleasure tore a little whine out of her throat. She moved again, more assuredly this time and her nerve endings hummed with electricity.

“Stars, Ben, you feel so good...” she breathed.

He moaned at the sound of her praise and the new rhythm she invented above him. He couldn't find the words to express his joy, as words had never been needed the few times he had felt joy before, and he had no language for this kind of passion, which he had not felt until he met Rey. He was reduced to feral sounds that echoed off the walls of the cave. He bucked his hips against hers proudly, and through his fingertips sent her doctrines of his worship.

Her hair, wet and in tangles around her shoulders and neck, framed her sunkissed face, her skin flushed and glistening from exertion. He watched each precious gasp escape her pink lips. He wanted her to feel the bliss she brought him, and each motion of his brought them a shared pleasure beyond expression.

She could live off the sounds that she tore from his throat with each rock over her hips. Those deep, guttural groans twisted his face into an expression of uncomplicated, unfettered pleasure and Rey felt herself grow hotter with each sound, each thrust.

The bond between them flowed wide and fast with sensation, a feedback loop of desire that curled that spring in her belly by increments.

When she leaned down again to catch his lips with hers, the angle of his cock inside her shifted just so and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head, a groan of her own muffled into his mouth. She braced her hands by his sides and rolled her hips again. And again. And again.

_Right. There._

His breaths were short and frantic as he rushed to obey, rolling himself deeper and deeper into her until he lost the sense of where he ended and she began. Snarled curses in a number of alien tongues escaped with each hot breath, and he felt as if his body would be consumed by their combined heat, the friction they were creating that drove him closer and closer to orgasm.

Carefully, he reached his good hand forward, resting his hand against her pubic bone and feeling the rhythm of their bodies through her. Tracing his fingers over the damp, wiry curls, he sought her clit with one clever finger. He knew the instant he found it.

She shrieked at the new sensation, the coil in her stomach nearly at the point of snapping. She tried to breathe, to slow down the build up, to make it last. She didn’t want this to end. It felt too good. He felt too good. The thought of parting from him now was incomprehensible. She wouldn’t survive this.

“Ben,” she sobbed, delirious with heat.

Her cries pushed him closer, closer, to the point of release. He could feel it pulsing through him.

He pressed his fingertips harder against her clit and pulled her down to his mouth. She whimpered against his lips.

"I'm here," he rasped, his fingers holding firm to the nap of her neck. "Rey. I want you. Let go."

She sat up again, grinding furiously down onto his cock, so close to that blinding release that her vision was blurring around the edges. She grasped for his right arm where he had a bruising grip on her thigh; she needed to anchor herself to him before she flew apart. Her cries of pleasure had transformed into strangled, panting, inhuman sounds. She was right there, just shy of tumbling over the edge. She knew instinctively that she couldn’t do it alone.

“Come with me. Ben. Please,” she begged, desperate for both their releases. Her pleading devolved into incoherent moans as the pressure built up impossibly higher.

The rhythm of their bodies, loud as thunder within the cave, was faster than his heartbeat when he heard Rey's desperation. He did not need to feel into the Force, into the bond between them to feel her wanting, her need pushing her to the precipice. Her hand on his arm told him the rest.

He looked at her once more, a howling, wild, beautiful thing, arching her naked body on his, to feel _him,_ wanting all of him, and with a loud grunt he slipped away into the torrent of sensation of his orgasm, taking her with him.

The world whited out around her. The screams of ecstasy that he’d wrung out of her body faded into ringing silence. Her heart stopped. Her breath froze. Her nerve endings blazed. The only real thing left in the universe was the man under her, inside her.

Ben. Her Ben. Her beloved. Her soulmate. Hers.

The bond sang between them, crystal clear and achingly real as millions of delicate filaments wove the two lovers together. This time, the Force would not allow their severance.

Ben felt removed from the tangibility of his body, and was instead awash in an indestructible bliss, his mind flowing freely between his own orgasmic high and Rey's.

Rey. She came into focus first as the cave and the world materialized around them once more.

His body now throbbed beneath her, both from being spent and from his injuries finally groaning under the exertion. But he let the pain cross his mind without a second thought. He would take the ache, a worthy trade for the joy it had brought both of them.

He admired Rey, slumped over but still firmly rooted on him. She bore a slight smile, blissful and triumphant. He wiped the sweat off her skin, pink and flushed from their lovemaking, running a gentle hand up her torso as high as he could reach. He released his bruising grip on her thigh, and drew lazy circles on her bare legs. Her small body seemed to heave gracefully as she caught her breath above him.

She hummed softly at his gentle touches, her skin sparking under his fingertips. She watched his face with adoring eyes, he looked so relaxed and so happy. She wished that they could stay like this forever.

His pain bolted across the bond, bright and sharp for a moment, but his exhausted, satisfied grin took the urgency out of her concern. She didn’t want to give him a reason to regret the incredible thing they’d just shared, or for him to believe that she regretted it. She would never regret this moment, consequences be damned.

Moving slowly, she leaned forward to kiss him gently at the corner of his mouth, her hair falling over her shoulder in a sodden curtain of chestnut waves. She smiled down at him, stroking his damp forehead lovingly.

“Hi,” she whispered. “I think we may have missed that part earlier.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now you’re just teasing me,” she groaned.
> 
> "No, I'm inviting you to play along."

Ben held Rey to his chest, mindful of pressing her too tightly against his fragile ribcage, and returned her kiss with a small peck of his own.

"You waltz into the middle of my shower and don't even have the courtesy to say anything?" he taunted. He beamed at her, warm and loving; a far cry from the gaunt, terrified man she had seen crying out to her in his sleep after the crash.

She giggled, her smile bright.

“Forgive me for my breach of etiquette,” she said solemnly, stifling a smile. “It won’t happen again.”

"I think we exchanged more than enough pleasantries for a while, so I'll let it slide."

She shifted up from her spot on his chest, the feeling of him still inside her sending a delicious warmth down her spine.

“Kriff, this feels so good...” she groaned quietly. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He buried his face in her shoulder, stifling a smirk of pride at the carnal pleasure they shared, at the adoration radiating off her towards his body.

"Well, that's on you, Jedi mine," he mumbled, scraping his teeth against her neck. "I'm here for the foreseeable future."

She purred contentedly.

“Don’t tempt me, my darling not-Sith. I just might take you up on that.”

She sat up fully, gazing down on him through hooded eyes. Spread out beneath her, flushed from their exertions, his dark hair haloed around his head, he looked utterly, beautifully debauched. And she had been the cause. Her skin prickled with wicked pride.

He shrugged, his good hand playing with whatever skin of hers he could reach: her thighs, hips, belly. A pilgrimage of his lover's form. His eyes drifted shut and opened again, as he tried not to succumb to the exhaustion creeping up on him in the wake of his orgasm.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be today, either,” she said with a sly smile. “I’m all yours.”

"Nowhere to be, huh?" he asked, reaching to tuck a strand of her impossibly mussed hair behind her ear, a futile but tender act. "No alarms or meetings? We might be able to try that again."

“Mmm, yes please,” she hummed lazily, rolling her hips in a teasing circle.

He released a languid moan, letting his good arm cup the dip of her waist, while his other hand raked along her thigh.

"Good," he said, his voice strangled. "Now I'm never letting you leave me. I hope you like this beautiful home you picked for the two of us, because after today, I'm not sure how I'm going to let you get back on your speeder and fly away again."

Her eyes turned soft at his words and she smiled.

"I can live with that," she murmured, low and sweet.

She shifted again, trying to ease some of the pressure on her knees, and keened quietly at the movement of him inside her.

"I really should get off of you, love. As amazing as this feels." Her tone was at once apologetic and regretful.

He groaned in mock irritation, and turned his chin defiantly up at her.

"As much as I enjoy looking at you at this angle, it's not going to be as fun for either of us in a few moments."

He released her, shifting over on the pallet and opening his good arm for her to curl up beside him.

"Besides, we both know there's plenty of room for both of us on this thing."

“Yeah, even with your gigantic hide,” she muttered, lifting herself off of him, hissing at the loss of him inside her, and settling onto the pallet beside him.

She sighed mightily, nestling snugly against his side. "You make for a very comfortable pillow, my love."

He smiled unconsciously at the endearments rolling so easily off her tongue. It all seemed so simple.

"It's my true destiny: not the Dark, not the Light. But a place for you to rest your head."

He tugged her into him; her body cradled next to his felt like the most natural thing in the galaxy.  
  
She fit against his side, her softness filling in his rough angles. The chill seeped into their skin as his frantic heart steadied.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, suddenly soft, fearful.

"Hm?" She lifted her head up from his shoulder to look at him sleepily, her smile soft and lazy.

"I'm great, why wouldn't I feel okay?"

He hoped the light in the cave was too dim to see the color flooding his face.

"I've just heard...you know, for women, their first time with a man, it hurts, and they...they bleed," he said, realizing as the words fell out of his mouth clumsily just how stupid he sounded.

“Unless I’m not…”

She blushed a bit and hid her face in his chest for a moment.

“No! No, no, I’ve never...ever done anything like that before.” She looked back up at him with a shy smile and glittering eyes.

“But it felt...incredible. I promise, I would’ve told you if anything hurt.”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder as she snuggled back down into the circle of his warmth.

"You have nothing to worry about, Ben. I've never felt better," she murmured.

He nuzzled her head, burying his face in her hair. He felt a twinge of animal satisfaction at her words.

"That's a relief. But you know...I care about you," he mumbled. “And sometimes I worry. About you. And now...I guess I figure that I’m going to be worrying about you a lot more.”

Her fingers found his face, her thumb caressing his cheekbone with light strokes.

"I know," she replied, gently coaxing the tension out of his muscles. "I will always worry about you, too. And something tells me that I have more reason to do so, going by the past week and a half."

"What do you mean?" he asked facetiously. "I've been under your care. What's there to worry about?"

"Ah yes, but what happened when you weren't under my care, hm? You went into battle, crashed your ship, and broke more bones than you could realistically spare. _That_ , my dearest, is why I worry." Her expression softened then. "I always worry when you're out of my sight."

"I get it. The minute you let me out of your sight I made a mess of things," he muttered, burying his lips in her palm and kissing it. "I figured I’d have earned something resembling your forgiveness now. And if not..."

He let his right hand reach across his body so his fingers could dance on her thigh.

"If not, I'll have to bury my face in your lap until you're not mad at me any more."

She giggled happily, her nose crinkling in that distinctly Rey kind of way that made his heart skip a beat or two.

"Well, just to warn you," she said with mock seriousness, "I'm positively furious at you." Her eyes glittered like pools of molten amber in the low light. "You might be in negotiations for a while."

He emitted a low growl and shuffled his arm out from beneath her.

"Let me see if I can apologize a little more earnestly this time, then."

Her own heartbeat stuttered at the rumble of his voice in his chest and she felt the heat of his words shoot straight down. But even so, he seemed like he was in earnest about apologizing.

"You do know that I've forgiven you already, don't you?" she whispered sincerely. "I hope you haven't been throwing yourself on your saber just to earn my forgiveness."

Her hand caught his face. "You know it, right?"

He gave her a small, timid smile.

"I'm sure part of me does, but I don't quite think I deserve it yet."

She leaned up to kiss him soundly, pressing her love into his lips until she was sure he could feel every cell of her feelings for him.

 _You deserve to be happy, Ben,_ she whispered in his mind. _I believe that with all my heart._

 _Then you really should keep me in your sight, cyar'ika,_ he responded. _You seem to make this whole happiness thing come easily._

She pulled away to look at him tenderly. "And are you happy, Ben?" she asked.

"Happy?" he asked, shocked. "Living in a cave on a forgotten rock with one leg, one arm, and the galaxy’s last Jedi as my only company?"

His good hand found the small of her back, and he buried his face in her neck sending her pulses of his emotions in the Force: little bursts of bliss in a seemingly endless wave.

"I can't remember ever being happier."

She laughed easily, warmed by his unabashed joy. She had never seen him so relaxed, so open. She curled in closer to him, kissing whatever skin she could find.

"I'm so glad," she whispered, choking on her emotion.

A small gasp escaped him, his skin blazing wherever her lips came to rest.

"I'm scared, too," he whispered. "I know I don't deserve this. It's going to end soon. I can't stay this happy."

He smirked sadly.

"This is me we're looking at."

She pulled his face down to force his gaze to meet hers. His eyes had gone soft and immeasurably dark, shifting like pools of deep water. She could feel his anxiety bubbling up under the surface of his happiness, staining it. Her own eyes shone with fierce determination as she wrapped her Force signature around them, watching as the anxiety fought vainly against the truth of what was happening. They were happy, they loved each other, and that was that.

"I am looking at you," she said quietly. "And I see no reason why you can't stay happy."

He held her tighter, forgetting the base outside the cave, the Resistance planning to leave soon. The speeders that had pursued them.

"As long as I have you, sweetheart," he whispered. "I have everything I need."

Their foreheads touched and she sank into the warmth of his embrace.

"I'm yours, Ben. We're in this together, no matter what happens." Her fingers stroked through his damp hair. "I promise. I will always be yours."

He pressed his lips against hers, a motion as natural as breathing now.

"My life is yours, Rey," he said after a moment. "I should have been dead a number of times over by now, many of them by your hands."

He took her arm in his right hand and pressed her palm to his chest demonstratively.

"And you saved me. When I thought I was dead. When I wished for nothing more than to get rid of the pain of hurting you, of living without you..." He trailed off, eyes tracing her hand up her arm, across her shoulder, and to her warm, gentle eyes.

"You gave me more than just my life. You've given me...hope. A purpose."

His right arm moved to start absently stroking her side.

"Something to fight for. To live for."

He cocked his head, his eyes meeting hers again.

"I've been wanting this my whole life. I have been wanting you all this time."

"You can stop waiting," she whispered, to herself and to him. She would always be there. Perhaps she always had been. Maybe this was what she'd been waiting for.

He nuzzled her. What he had been...he thought of the first time he had worn his mask. The intoxication of power. Bleeding his kyber until it shone, red and deadly. He thought of the throne of the First Order.

It all seemed so flimsy, so gaudy. Tacky signs and symbols of a false power. That was not the power he craved. He wanted only to harness the power that drew Rey and him together, making it so he would never have to part from her. Her laugh. Her gentle caresses. All these things were worth more than any throne.

"Enough about me," he said. "Are you happy?"

Rey closed her eyes and smiled, enveloping him in a wave of sweet contentment.

"Completely, Ben."

"Good," he muttered playfully. "Otherwise I was going to flip you over so I could apologize to you more vigorously this time."

A heated whimper escaped her.

"Promises promises," she growled, looking up at him with a sultry smirk.

With a snarl, he began to leave a trail of rough kisses along her neck and shoulders, his hands pawing at her eagerly.

 _What can I say?_ he whispered into her mind. _You should know by now I have a sharp tongue._

She gasped a breathy laugh. "Oh yes," she teased. "And a clever one at that."

Carefully, he released her from his grip and sat up, pulling her up and over him until she straddled his good leg.

"It's fiendishly wicked," he said, dark eyes smoldering as they chased the spots of red swelling up along her skin. "But it has been known to deliver thoughtful apologies occasionally."

“Oh I’m sure it has,” she purred. “Remind me again what it is you’re apologizing for?” She winked. “In all this excitement, I’ve lost track.”

"You know, I don't think I remember either," he said huskily. "But it was something so vile, so wretched, so atrocious, that I have had no choice but to fall before you and beg your pardon."

He lighted his hands on either side of her waist and began to kiss her shoulders languidly.

"Ah yes," he panted. "I remember now."

She rolled her head to the side to give him better access. Her hand came up to weave into his hair.

"Oh?" she moaned breathlessly. "Do enlighten me. I can't very well forgive your sins if you don't tell me what they are."

"We could be here all day," he mumbled. "But let's revisit the worst."

He bit down on her shoulder, before dragging his tongue over the spot where his teeth had been.

"I severed our connection for my own self preservation," he said, moving to repeat the process on her neck.

"I chose the First Order over you."

He dragged his tongue up to her jaw, and whispered in her ear, "I am Kylo Ren, anathema to everything you hold dear.”

He pulled away, dark eyes burning into hers.

“And cruellest of all, I have not yet completely satisfied you."

The sounds that he coaxed out of her were desperate, hungry. She took his face in her hands. His heavy breathing brushed against her skin.

Rey leaned in and kissed his forehead, where her scar crossed over his eyebrow.

“I forgive you,” she murmured.

She moved down to his cheekbone, laying her lips there next.

“I forgive you.”

Her mouth traveled across the bridge of his nose to the corner of his lips and pressed another kiss there.

“I forgive you.”

She pulled back enough to look at him again, her eyes flicking to his mouth, yet unkissed.

“Your move, Ben,” she whispered, her lips a hair's breadth away from his.

He opened his lips to speak, felt his mouth almost brushing hers, but again, he found the words replaced by something more feral in him. He snarled, lips trailing down her throat again. His thumb pressed against her nipple, while his other hand found the inside of her thigh. He left a trail of kisses until he took her breast in his mouth again. He scraped his teeth against the skin, insistent yet gentle. He hummed in delight.

_Is this contrite enough for you?_

His fingers traced up her leg.

_Or should I repent further?_

She let loose a strangled moan, her eyes slipping closed as all coherent thought was ripped from her head by his wicked mouth. Her arms wound around his neck to hold him fast to her.

He released her breast, pinching the nipple between his teeth as he pulled away.

"May I?"

She nodded frantically.

He looked around.

"Lie back on that crate," he commanded.

She had regained enough sense to cock an eyebrow at him.

“This is starting to sound like less of an apology and more like a power fantasy,” she growled.

He rolled his eyes as he carefully shifted his legs, broken and intact; the thigh she sat astride nudging teasingly up toward her core, eliciting a whimper from her.

"Suit yourself," he said. "I'll find another way to make amends."

She surged forward to catch his lower lip between her teeth, a low growl vibrating in her throat.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hissed into his mouth.

A gasp became strangled in his throat, and he snarled.

His mouth caught hers, sending a shock of heat through to her core.

_Tell me what you want._

_You. I want you._

_How do you want me?_

She groaned aloud, filling his insides with heat.

 _Anywhere_ , she gasped.

He broke the kiss.

"Then lie down on the crate."

She wrenched herself away from him and stood on shaky legs. His eyes left scorched trails where they raked over her bare skin and she shivered at the invisible touch. She sat on the nearest crate and reclined back on her elbows, watching him with hungry eyes.

“Better?” she purred.

He inched closer to her, positioning his legs to straddle the crate. Sitting up, her knees were level with his shoulders. Perfect.

“Definitely. How about yourself?"

She chuckled. “Oh I’m just great.”

She grinned down at him where his head rested against her leg.

He dragged his palm slowly across the top of her thigh, his dark eyes a dangerous fire. He kissed her knees, parting them as he buried his face into her skin.

"Good," he mumbled, his voice reverberating through the crate beneath her. "Then we can get started."

She whimpered softly, her cheeks flushing. Her muscles seemed to vibrate with anticipation and his breath against her sent jolts of electricity through her nerve endings.

He dug his fingers into the soft expanse of skin and muscle and parted her legs. His right hand rested on her shin; his rough kisses along her inner thigh an intoxicating mix of nipping and sucking.

"You...really like my legs, don't you?" she gasped.

He turned his face to her.

"Well, they're a part of you, so yes. And in my current condition, they're easy to reach," he admitted. "Do you like this? Or would you rather I lavish attention somewhere else?"

She laughed breathlessly, her head tipping back and pushing her collarbones out into sharp relief.

"I am at your mercy, love," she said through a smile. "It's your apology, after all."

He rested his damp head against her leg.

"Well, clearly I am not doing an acceptable job," he purred.

A dark voice growled in her mind. _Where do you like to be touched?_

Her face flamed and she looked to the ceiling as if for strength. How could she feel shy after everything that they'd done already? Did she even have the words to describe it?

She floated images to him over the bond instead. Half naked and gasping in her little hammock on Jakku, the fingers of her right hand circling her clit with determined, familiar movements, her left hand pressed against her abdomen just below her navel. Alone in her bunk on the base, biting down on her thin pillow to stifle her cries, two fingers curling deep inside her as her thumb worked mercilessly on the little bundle of nerves. In the 'fresher, skimming soapy hands over wet, sensitive skin. One very recent encounter involving a dark haired lover pressing her up against a cave wall and making her scream his name.

"I like how you touch me, too," she murmured, her voice small and soft. "You're...you're really good at that...making me feel good."

He almost tore his eyes off of her dimly lit form. She was exquisite, in all the forms her memory took, and he wasn’t worthy of her. Not now, not ever. The memories she had given were so sacred, so beautiful, so raw. Something no one was supposed to see, but they were small gifts for him, edged with so much love and adoration, that he felt his fear evaporate.

He smiled, glancing up at her.

“I love your legs,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over her inner thigh. “I love your hands. Your shoulders.”

He reached up delicately, naming each part beneath his fingers. “Your hips...waist...breasts…”

He cocked his head, a curious scholar. “Your everything. Everything is beautiful to me.”

He beamed and watched his fingers drawing circles on her belly. “I want to touch it all. Kiss it all. Find every little piece of skin I can that makes you feel good. But I can only taste and touch so much at once.”

He smiled up at her. “One day I’ll make sure I don’t miss an inch.”

She exhaled a shuddering breath. Her eyes were locked onto him, pupils blown wide and turning her hazel eyes a deep, glowing amber.

"And where would you start this exploration of my body?"

Without hesitating, he reached out his arm.

“The place where you started exploring mine.”

He took her hand in his, feeling her small, callused fingertips brushing his. He brought their hands to his mouth and kissed first her knuckles, then turned her hand over, moving from fingertips to palm.

“The place where our bodies first met,” he muttered, eyes studying her palm.

She sat up, gazing down at him as he mapped out the pathways etched into her skin. Her pulse sped up. How could so simple a touch move her blood so erratically?

“Can you divine anything from the lines?” she asked softly, her voice caught in her throat and unable to achieve more than a whisper.

"This is a language you probably know better than me," he mused. He traced the shorter line on the sides of her palm. "If I'm remembering correctly, this one is for wisdom. It’s deep. Not surprised. You're brilliant. Too wise for me. I'm hopeless."

He moved to the center, studying carefully. "This one's for...wealth, I think? Definitely short. Maybe you just got a bad start on that one," he smiled playfully.

"And this one..." He traced the longest line from one side of her palm to the heel of her hand. "This is for the heart. You have enough of it to go around. For me, for your friends. You have courage. This line is long."

He looked up at her sheepishly. "Your love will last a long time."

“And what about this timeless beloved of mine? Let me guess: a tall, dark, handsome rogue who’ll sweep me off my feet?”

"Yeah, I know, I know," he muttered. "You and Dameron. You don't need to rub it in."  
He grinned wickedly at her.

She exhaled an exasperated laugh, her eyes rolling heavenward.

“Kriffing hells, not you too. Why is everyone so dead set on me and Poe? I don’t see it!”

She grinned back down at him, all teeth and crinkles around her eyes.

“Don’t they realize that I only have eyes for beaten-up, scantily clad, not-Sith in the woods?”

"Wow, what a lucky guy. When can I meet him? He sounds dreamy."

He returned her smile with a large one of his own, her hand still clasped in his.

It didn't matter how many times she professed affection for him; every time was precious. He hoped he never got used to it, though he knew eventually he would have to start to believe it.

Looking at her radiantly beaming at him, he almost could.

She leaned down to steal a kiss, threading her free hand through his hair.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want you to scare him off,” she mumbled against his lips. “He’s mine.”

"Well, if I'm enough to scare him off, then he must not be very good for you," Ben purred, nipping harmlessly at her jaw.

“My love, you’re enough to scare off an army of rathtars,” she chuckled, smoothing back the damp locks from his face. “You’re very fierce when you need to be.”

She smiled softly as she stroked his forehead with her thumb. “But you’re so good with me.”

"A whole army, you say?" Ben beamed with pride, then laughed. "I'm trying to be even better with you. For you."

He gave her a quick kiss. "Now you're interrupting my exploration. I'm never going to get you off at this rate."

She let him go, leaning back on her elbows, still grinning.

“Forgive me, I was distracted.”

"Now where was I?" he asked, suddenly thoughtful. "Something about hands and apologies..."

She hummed. “You did mention something about starting where our bodies first met.”

She winked.

“Where shall you travel next?”

"Well, I can follow lines of your palm to wherever your hands lead me, or I can try to remember the pieces of you that I'm most acquainted with."

She looked to their joined hands, the fingers interlaced like an unbreakable knot. She pressed her lips to his knuckles.

“Then why don’t you pick up from here?” she murmured.

He kissed their joined fingers, then began dancing kisses up her arm.

"I think I remember now."

He pulled her towards him, kissing the scar on her shoulder before slowly pressing his lips against the top of her shoulder.

"We touched hands and then I didn't feel you again until that night."

He glanced up with her, a playful fire in his eyes.

"Remember when I taught you to dance?"

She sighed wistfully, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Mm-hm, I haven’t forgotten,” she murmured. “You were an excellent teacher.”

"And you were a fast learner," he said. "And that's when you let me put my hand here," he said, placing his fingers on the dip in her waist. "So I could guide you."

“You certainly took advantage of the backless gown, that’s for sure,” she whispered as the memory of the touch shivered up her side. His fingers were warm as they traced up and down her skin.

He shrugged.

"You picked it. I merely enjoyed it," he said.

He cocked his head at her. "You took my arm next, but I couldn't feel it. Not through my jacket and gloves."

She slipped her fingers behind his head, drawing tiny circles at the base of his skull. “But you could feel this.”

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. "But that was much later," he said. "Do you remember the balcony?"

“I yelled at you.”

He opened one eye. "Yes, you did that. A lot. But after that."

“You took your mask off for me,” she murmured.

He moved his large hand up her ribs until it slipped across her side and wrapped around her to her lower back, his fingers resting in the soft dip. "When I took my gloves off, that was the first time I got to feel you right here.”

Rey tried to regulate her breath, watching him carefully. “I think that might be your favorite place to touch me. Somehow your hands always find their way there.”

He smiled shyly. “I think it’s because we fit together naturally at just this spot...”

“We fit together in other places too,” she hummed teasingly.

“That comes later, cyar’ika,” he growled hungrily, his grip tightening on her flesh.

She chuckled and leaned further down to kiss his temple.

“I like it when you touch me there. It makes me feel safe.”

His long fingers relaxed and began to write soft incantations on her back.

"Good," he said, resting his head on her knees and glancing up at her. "You should feel safe. Because I will never let anything happen to you. Not if I can help it."

She brushed the hair away from his face, tracing the shell of his ear with a delicate touch.

“I know, love.”

He kissed the tops of her knees as he walked his fingers up her back.

"Where to next?"

“Where did we meet after that?”

He smirked. "Did we already get to the part where you couldn't keep your hands off of me, or have we passed that?"

Her laugh hitched a bit.

“Keep going, Solo,” she growled.

He screwed up his forehead in concentration. "Well, we'll just skip ahead to when we got to the city and you _still_ couldn't keep your hands off of me."

“Now you’re just teasing me,” she groaned.

"No, I'm inviting you to play along."

He slid his hand back around to her side, fingers wrapping around her ribcage.

“Ben, please...”

He pulled her closer. "I guess my story is overdue for its climax, then?"

His thumb brushed across her nipple.

She gasped, her fingers tightening against the edge of the crate.

He drew his head back and looked up at her again, his gaze idolizing her.

"That's my favorite part, too."

His thumb continued to circle her areola as his right hand slid her knees apart once more.

She moaned, high and desperate, her muscles tensed from his teasing touches.

He leaned forward and took her nipple in his mouth, suckling it carefully before trailing kisses down her torso, his hand sliding to down to touch her as he went. He stopped at her belly, admiring the softness of her middle, indescribably perfect.

She whimpered. His lips were unbearably soft against her skin as he traveled downward. She carded her fingers through his hair for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Rey hoped she would never get used to how good he felt pressed so close to her, sharing his warmth, his love.

He lowered himself again, his face level with her legs, and he nibbled the soft skin of her inner thighs, stretching his good arm to continue toying with her breasts. He drew his face away suddenly.

"Oh."

Her eyes flew open and her head tipped down to peer at him.

“What? What’s wrong?” she gasped.

"I...I'm sorry, it's nothing," he muttered, his hand brushing against her thigh. "I just forgot...I'm sorry, I didn't...I forgot to clean you." His ears burned red, even in the golden light.

“I should…” _Stupid. Thoughtless. Idiot._ “We need to get you washed off. Now. I...”

“Oh,” she squeaked, her own cheeks flushing. “Right, kriff, I didn’t even think...well, thank R’iia for Dr. Kalonia and her insistence on contraceptive implants.”

She made to disentangle herself from his grasp.

“I, um, I can go...take care of that.”

"No," he said, reaching for her, his fingers flailing against whatever parts of her he could reach, desperate to keep her here, in this moment. "I should have...it was my doing. I should be taking care of you better. You're my..."

Words died on his tongue. What was she to him?

She stilled, her gaze intent on him.

“Your what?” she asked gently.

 _Partner?_ True, but too technical.

 _Friend?_ Not exactly. Not in this moment.

He skipped over the word that seemed to be lifted from a life denied him, a life he had glimpsed as a child, had he not followed his uncle’s path:  _Girlfriend._ That implied courtship, which implied a normal relationship. It implied ordinary, when they were anything but.

He'd never been normal, in any shape or form. And neither had she.

"Beloved," he whispered finally, hoping his pause hadn't been as long as it felt.

He swallowed. "And you...you gave yourself to me. I should have been more thoughtful. To look out for you, after..." _Say it._ "After we...made love."

He looked at her jaw rather than meeting her gaze.

"It's what good lovers do."

She reached out gently to touch his face, skating her fingers delicately over his cheekbone. Her eyes were soft as warm honey and just as sweet. Her heart knocked firmly against her ribs, as if it was trying to escape and reach out to him.

“Oh, Ben...” she whispered. “You are. You’re so good to me, love.”

She paused, suddenly shy.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever had...the only one I want.” Her conviction seemed to strengthen. “So I don’t care what ‘good lovers’ are supposed to do. I don’t want them. I just want you.”

His skin burned with the warmth of her praise. He pressed his hand against the stickiness of her thigh.

“I’m still learning, but if you’re happy…”

He took a breath to steady the brief flash of nerves that their discovery had ignited.

"Would you like to continue?" he asked quietly.

She looked up and out toward the mouth of the cave, the tarnished silver light bright against the dim light inside.

"It would be a shame to waste such a good rainstorm," she mused. She tilted his face up for a kiss. "Besides, I think we could both use some cooling off."

He tried unsuccessfully to suppress a look of disappointment. He had been thoroughly enjoying her gasps and moans, a symphony all for him. He wasn't ready for it to stop.

"Go on ahead," he muttered. "I'll follow.”

She stood gingerly, the sweet ache between her legs throbbing with anticipation. She bent over to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, lover mine,” she purred. “You promised to get me off, after all. And I intend to collect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt Adorable Fluffy Space Virgin Afterglow Hour to present to you _"Tales from the marginalia"_ :
> 
> One of the comments in this chaper's Google doc was just [this link.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlD0XQibpaY)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry for who I am as a person. And now I know  
> She's got something you just can't trust  
>  _It's something mysterious_  
>  And now it seems I'm falling, falling for her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You and me, a ship, and the whole galaxy ahead of us."

_Journeys end in lovers meeting_  
Twelfth Night, Act II.III

* * *

 

Electricity sizzled across her skin. She could tell that he was watching her walk away. She stood at the mouth of the cave, the air before her cool and thick with the rain, the world around her cast in a greenish tint. With a hand outstretched into the downpour, she stepped outside, letting the water trickle teasing over her hypersensitive skin.

She felt gloriously, terrifyingly exposed out here in the open, naked as the day she was born. It was oddly empowering. Rey hadn’t realized that this new experience, this oneness with another, could change the way she felt about herself. She wondered what would happen if a patrol was to find her out here, naked and resplendent in the wet greenness of the forest, like a newborn goddess.

She tipped her head back and stood there, letting the rain wash over her.

Ben leaned on the staff and the crate to force himself to his feet, and after a moment, pivoted toward the mouth of the cave. He watched Rey disappear from view, her arms open over her head, embracing the sky. He hobbled over to the cave entrance and watched her for a moment. He leaned against the cliff face, letting the heavy raindrops lick the cool sweat off his body.

She approached him quietly, padding on bare feet over sodden leaves and silty earth to where he had propped himself up against the stones behind them. He watched her with serene focus, holding his good hand out to her, beckoning her into the protective circle of his embrace.

She nestled her back against his chest, nudging gently up under his right arm and wrapping his left around her waist. They stood in silence for a while, letting the quiet and the forest and the rain soak into their souls, and just...existing.

“Do you ever think about what you’ll do after all this?” she murmured.

"No way," he said, burying his face in the silky wet hair behind her ear. "I'm not making you listen to me ramble on anymore."

She batted at his arm playfully.

“Come on, let’s hear it,” she teased. “What do you want from your life, Ben?”

"A bigger cave.”

She shot a withering look over her shoulder at him.

"What? I’m a simple man with simple needs. Just you wait; this cave of junk won't be able to hold me once I start running again."  
  
She laughed. "I'm serious, Ben!"

"I'm serious too! I'll be back to moving on my own before you know it," he said in mock offense.

Her tone softened. "What do you want from your life after this?"

He wrapped his arms around her, his right across her middle, the other across her shoulders pulling her into his warmth. In his mind, he muttered oaths of adoration, of joy. She had given him this, this new ability to dream of a future. This newfound lightness in his soul was a gift, one that he would cherish.

They stood for a moment, the serenity washing over them.

He brushed his coarse mouth to her ear.

"I always wanted to be a pilot."

She craned her neck to look back at him with a growing smile.

“Yeah?” Her eyes were warm and bright. “What kind of pilot?”

He looked out past her, beyond the rock where his clothes were soaking, past the endless forest, out into a cloudless sky in a distant corner of the galaxy Rey couldn't fathom. A lightness appeared in his chest, and his tone brightened.

"I don't know, but whatever kind, I'd be a damn good one," he said, smiling at the notion. "There isn't much I can't fly."

He paused. "My Silencer notwithstanding."

She let out a low, appreciative whistle.

“Terror of the Resistance or not, that ship was a thing of beauty,” she said wistfully. “What I wouldn’t have given to really get into her guts before she went up.”

She paused, her expression sheepish.

“I’m sorry I had to blow her fuel line. Couldn’t risk anyone finding you when you crashed.”

"So that's how you did it, huh?" He smirked. "I guess it was worth it: trading her for my life. Small price for seeing you again."

  
She leaned her head back against his left shoulder.

“But you designed her yourself, right? I saw some schematics in the journal.”

She grinned, all teeth and feral optimism.

“Maybe we can rebuild her, only better this time.”

He buried his face in her hair.

"I _helped_ design it. She was a prototype, but I made my own modifications. Improvements. Some weren't made known to the engineers. Flying it was as natural as walking."

He scoffed. "Well, more natural than walking is now. "

She snorted good-naturedly.

“You’re already improving though!” she encouraged, tilting her head back to look up at him. “This time last week, you were concussed and immobile. Look where you are now.”

She snuck a kiss on the edge of his jaw. “I’m proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself.”

He nuzzled her. "Please, it's nothing. Once I got past the not-dying part, you did all the hard work."

The back of her head slotted perfectly into the space between his neck and his shoulder, as if the spot had been carved out of bone and sinew specifically so she could rest herself there.

"Do you know what you'd want to do with your piloting skills?"

"You mean besides kidnapping the last Jedi and taking her to see the most beautiful parts of the galaxy?" he murmured.

He dragged his lips across her shoulder, thinking.

"I don't know what kind of pilot I can be. Not with who I am. Who I’ve been."

He laughed quietly to himself.

"Besides, I want to be good to you, and pilots make the worst lovers."

"Why do you say that?"

"I watched my mother suffer through it. My father was always racing off across the galaxy on business. Never had time for her. Or me."

He held her tighter.

"I'd always be traveling somewhere, darting off where the work is. What kind of life would we have if you could never find me? It'd be like I never left the First Order."

She whirled on him then, planting her hands firmly on her hips and attempting to look intimidating despite her nudity. Her wet hair plastered to her neck and shoulders in dark brown tendrils.

“And what makes you think that you’d be flying off to Force-knows-where without a copilot?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not the only one here who can fly anything, Ben Solo.”

He regarded her coolly, impassively for a moment, raindrops dripping off his brow as he absorbed the impact of her words. Then he returned his arms around her body, perhaps less decently than before, hands feeling for what ever purchase they could grab, enveloping her in an all-consuming hug.

The future was taking shape between them, a future of flying across the galaxy with his beloved. His Rey at his side. He laughed, practically manic, as he left eager kisses on her shoulders and neck.

"You mean...us? Flying together?” he asked, still laughing from the joy of his revelation.

There was a future for them; he could visualize it now. There was a way forward.

She laughed with him; his joy and above all his hope was an infectious thing. It painted the world a bit brighter and made her heart light as air.

"Of course I do. You and me, a ship, and the whole galaxy ahead of us."

She pulled back enough to reach his face, scratching lightly against his scruffy jaw.

“You might even keep the beard if you’re going to be a pilot,” she said with a sly grin. “It makes you look rather roguish.”

"Oh, so now you want me scruffy, is that it?" His delight echoed off the cliff face.

Her face softened, but the brightness of her smile only glowed more. She rubbed her palms against his face, humming happily.

"I want you in every way, shape, and form, my love." She winked. "But I'm still not convinced about the mustache."

"Hey, if you want me to be hairy, you’ll just have to accept that a mustache might be part of the package."

He buried his face in her neck so she could feel the tickle and scrape of his sharp stubble on her tender skin.

He pulled away, suddenly, beaming as he looked into her eyes, the rain rolling off his pale skin.

"I'll find the next smuggler crew that comes here, and I'll...I'll get work with them. I’ll go off-world, get another job. And if the smugglers won’t hire me, I’ll...find stuff in this cave. Sell it for passage. I'll buy a ship. And I'll come find you. And then I'll never leave your side again."

His Force signature was filled with warmth, with light. It burned brighter than Rey had ever felt it. His eyes darted down her body mischievously.

"What I wouldn't give to be able to lift you up and spin you around right now."

"Oh yeah?" Her arms snaked up under his, wrapping around his back, slippery from the rain.

"And what happens after you come find me? What kind of adventures will we go on?"

He moved his hips from side to side, swaying the two of them as he thought.

“After I get some work, get my own ship, and steal you away from the Resistance, I’m going to show you the greenest places in the galaxy. All the most beautiful places: Kashyyyk, Raydonia, Naboo.” He smirked at the last one. “Anywhere you want.”

She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, gazing back at him.

“There’s one thing wrong with that plan,” she mused coquettishly. “I’m commandeering your ship.” She grinned wolfishly. “ _Then_ we can go find every green planet in the galaxy.”

Her eyes and voice softened then.

“We’ll pick our favorite and build a house there. Just Ben and Rey; no sides, no war, no destinies. Just us.”

He craned his head forward to kiss her neck, then ran his tongue along the dips of her collar bone, drinking the water off her skin.

"Just Ben and Rey," he repeated, mumbling into her bones. "I can get behind that."

He bit down hard on the muscle of her shoulder.

"But if you think you're stealing _my_ ship..." he growled into her bones.

She hissed at the sensation, dragging her fingernails across his scalp and pulling his head back to look at her through hooded eyes.

“Oh I don’t think I’m stealing it, my dearest,” she purred, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“I know I am.”

He was merciless.

His fingers hooked into her hips, her buttocks, wherever he could sink into her tender skin. He burrowed his mouth first into her jaw, then trailed it down her neck, alternating between kissing and nibbling as he moved across her shoulders.

She would have to get used to it, he rationalized; there would be a lot more of this if they were to pilot together. When there were lulls in their travels, he could imagine no better way to pass the time.

She groaned with unselfconscious abandon. He seemed damned and determined to leave his own mark upon her flesh.

“And after that?” she moaned. “Once we’ve found a place for ourselves?”

He could feel himself hardening again at the sound of her sighs.

He resurfaced for air.

"After that?" he mumbled into her neck, his words coming out between his gasps. "I just assumed more of this, for as long as either of us can stand it."

“I can get behind that,” she breathed.

The rain was doing nothing to cool the heat that had reignited under her skin. She licked smoldering kisses along his throat up her scar.

“And beneath it,” she growled into his jaw. “And on top of it. And any other way we can think of.”

He chuckled hungrily. "I'll have you know I'm prepared to get very creative."

He scanned her, dripping wet and flushed with heat and excitement and the early signs of bruising. He carefully brushed her slick hair out of her face with his good hand.

"I guess before that, though, we should give you a name, especially if we’re going to be a team," he said softly. "My last name, if you'll take it. A sign of the promises we are keeping to one another. Keep us both honest."

She froze, her lips parted in shock and her eyes fixed on Ben’s earnest face as she processed the words that had just left his kiss-bruised lips. He wanted to give her his name, the name that he had struggled under for so long; now she could shoulder the burden of it with him. He wanted to give her his family, which he was just starting to come back to terms with; now she could be part of his family, little and broken as it was. He wanted her.

Her jaw worked but the sound had stuck hard in her throat with emotion.

"I'm sorry," he said, peeling his gaze off her face, and returning his hand to her back. “I just meant that...if you wanted a family name...when you're ready, we can make one ourselves." His voice was almost lost in the sound of rain around them.

"It can be whatever name you want. Not even Solo. Forget Solo. You won't be alone again. In spirit or name."

Her answering kiss overflowed with the words she couldn’t express. Her gratitude, her adoration, her joy, her belonging. She pressed her love into his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, any skin she could reach received her ardent attentions. Rain ran down her cheeks, mingling with happy tears as she clung to him as tightly as she dared.

He found himself dazed, barely able to focus on holding them both upright, and they stumbled further away from the cave opening towards another outcropping of rocks. He felt the breath catching in her chest. He buried his face in her shoulder, feeling her devotion wash over him. He was going to have her as his own. He was warm despite the chill; his was heart full.

She leaned back to look into his eyes, her hands cool as they fluttered against his flushed cheeks.

“I-I have nothing,” she stammered. “Nothing to give you in return...you...you really want me, you would give me your name so I wouldn’t feel alone again. Ben...what could I give you in return?”

He panted, his chest thrumming, frantic with want.

"You're the reason I'm still here, still breathing, not bound and tortured and waiting for a mercy that will never come," he said, eyes dark, focused on her. "What more could I ask of you?"

“Anything,” she gasped. “Everything.”

He released his grip on her and pressed her carefully down onto a large rock, flattened and smooth with age. The Force felt like dozens of invisible hands, gently carrying her away from him and laying her down on the worn stone.

He looked at her, observing the water gathering on her skin in tiny pebbles, her muscular arms, still reaching for him. He appreciated the softness of her middle and breasts, her legs dangling off the edge of the stone.

He placed his good arm along her side and bent at the waist over her. He enjoyed the feeling of standing above her, his body shielding hers from the rain, his shadow covering her.

"I want to dance with you again," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I want to hold you again, and not be afraid who sees. I want to know you will be mine, no matter how many planets separate us. I will be the one you always return to."

His gaze, once soft and adoring, shifted suddenly. It became hard, desperate.

"But right now? I want your body."

Her chest heaved as she gasped for air. The hazel of her eyes had darkened to stormy gray and haloed her wide-blown pupils with a ring of silver. The desire in her was nearly tangible as she looked up at him under rain-spiky lashes. Her knees fell open for him.

“I’m yours,” she whispered.

Cupping his hand out to catch the rain, he rubbed his palm along her inner thigh in a certain, strong motion, wiping away any remnants of their earlier intercourse as she wriggled under his touch. Time to start again.

He stood back up, then abruptly pulled both her wrists into his good hand. He pinned them above her head, against the wet stone.

He shifted his hips between her open legs, his eyes dancing appreciatively over her form, every bit of her, laid out before him in the watery daylight. He bent low over her again and nudged her thigh with his erect cock.

"What will you give me?" he rasped into her ear.

The sound that escaped her was nothing short of inhuman. Hunger gnawed at her insides, but a far different hunger than she had felt in the desert. Her back arched, pushing her breasts up against his chest as she tried to nip at his lips.

“Everything,” she gasped. “All of me.”

"All of you?" he asked through clenched teeth, his lips brushing her ear. "Just for now? For today?"

His right hand raked through her damp curls for her clit. Two forceful fingers brushed it.

She yelped at his touch, squirming under his iron grip. It felt as if there was lightning in his fingertips.

“Always,” she sobbed. “Always yours. _R’iia,_ please...”

He dragged his teeth down her neck, across her sternum, his lips resting on her left breast.

"Please, what?" he hissed, pressing his fingers again.

She writhed, panted, moaned, desperate for more. It had become impossible to articulate exactly what she needed, what she craved.

“Touch me.” She was begging. “Please _please_ touch me.”

He pressed his chest against her, pinning her to the rock, letting the heat from his body consume her.

"Where?" he growled, his breath brushing against her nipple. "You're going to need to be more specific."

“I don’t—I don’t know I can’t...Ben...” she moaned, delirious in her torment.

"Oh, I think you can." He pulled his body away.

She whimpered at the loss of his heat, arching up to reach him again.

“No no no please, Ben, please touch me, I can’t bear it,” she babbled.

He released her hands.

"Fine. You're at my mercy, then."

The heat inside her was quickly eating away at her sanity. She could swear in her delirium that the raindrops were turning to steam upon contact with her skin. Her fingertips dug into the rock above her head. All she knew for sure was that if he didn’t touch her, she’d go mad.

“Kylo!” she howled, her heart threatening to stop from sheer wanting of him.

He froze, standing between her legs and watching her.

"Is that how you see me?" he asked after a long moment, tone even. "Always the monster?"

“ _My_ monster,” she said hoarsely.

He leaned forward over her once more. He ran his good hand over her wet chest, tracing the protruding collarbones, her pert nipples, her ribs. His other hand slipped into her, feeling the wetness of her arousal.

Rey let out a long, high wail as she felt his thick fingers stretch her. It was a far feeling from her own paltry explorations, her fingers too slim and nowhere near long enough to touch herself satisfactorily. The feeling of _finally_ being filled seemed to bring her back to herself. 

He kissed her breast roughly, his teeth scraping the sensitive before letting out a feral growl into her sternum.

"Then a monster you will get," he rumbled.

She reached out to grip her lover by his dripping mane and pull his eyes back up to hers, blackened with lust.

He kissed her deeply. His fingers, unskilled but eager, began to wriggle in and out, feeling her writhe beneath him. When he felt a comfortable rhythm, he slipped his thumb over her clit again, sending a shock of pleasure through her.

"Your Kylo."

Her responding grin was hungry, feral, full of teeth and desire. She sighed with pleasure as warmth blossomed in her core, stoked by his fingers. Her own fingers carded through his wet hair as he mouthed at her neck and collarbone.

“My Kylo,” she gasped with each thrust of his hand. “Shadow. Monster. Conqueror. Beloved...”

She loved him; be he Kylo or Ben, she would love every dark corner of him.

"How complimentary, cyar'ika," he purred. He enjoyed watching her, feeling her melt under his touch. But he couldn't restrain his own heat any longer, his erection straining against her thigh.

His good hand, which had been moving in languid lines along her side, feeling from her thigh up to the side of her breast, pulled her jaw between his wet fingertips, drawing her eyes to him.

"May I?"

Her hips bucked against his hand.

“Please...” she groaned, the word drawn out by the curl of his fingers inside her.

He pressed his fingers to the walls of her, pushing against her belly, and then withdrew his hand completely. Resting his injured leg against a ledge in the rock, he gripped his cock. Pressing his weight into his good arm, which he positioned next to her head, he gave her a brief, hungry kiss before guiding himself into her cunt, carefully, mindful of his injuries.

He sighed as her warmth enveloped him, his eyes shut tight. _Rey_. He slowly, pressed his hips closer to her, afraid of harming her.

She moaned softly as he entered her, the stretch of him slow and sweet inside her. Her hands wandered down his sides to grab onto his hips, urging him in deeper.

“Stars, I hope I never get used to this,” she murmured.

His breath was a pleasured sigh as he slipped into her. Steadying himself over her, he tried a gentle thrust, mindful not to put too much weight on his leg. Soon, it did not matter. Their thoughts and sensation flowed openly between them, a current shocking all their senses. Visions of intergalactic flights and houses on green planets floated across their minds.

Her body around his was a pulse of ecstasy. After a few thrusts, his eyes snapped open to look at her. He rested his hand on her belly, tracing up to her breasts.

"I certainly hope you don't tire of me too easily. I'm just getting started."

Her legs bracketed his hips, locking him into her as deep as she could. She lifted her head to press open-mouthed kisses to his chest and the base of his throat.

“Good,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”

He heeded her command, and began to thrust faster and more eagerly, finding a rhythm between the two of them. He loved her legs curling around him, a measure of motion holding them together while threatening to sever his connection on reality.

His hand groped at her torso sloppily, a distracted musician trying to pluck the string to make her frantic heartbeat harmonize with his. Carnal sounds slipped from his mouth at the feeling of her own moans humming beneath his fingers. He pushed his body as far as it would go, the friction around him perfect bliss.

And, he realized time and again when his eyes caught up to his body, she was beautiful. The light and shadow on her slight figure cast her as the subject of a celebrated painting, like those he had seen in various palaces as a child with his mother. Dressed in only raindrops, the scrap of red at her wrist, and his fingerprints, he watched her expression change: a slight smile of delight; a gasp of ecstasy; a laugh at herself, at this moment they shared; wonder and confusion as strange new sensations gripped her. He was proud of the transformations she undertook from moment to moment, sensations he created; he wanted her to feel as wonderful as her body, this incomparable gift, made him feel.

Her head fell back against the rock and the rain fell softly into her hair, pooling around her like a water plant. Her hands slipped over his back, feeling powerful muscles bunch and shift under pale skin as he moved within her. She watched him as he loved her.

His eyes never left her, their dark gaze left trails of heat on her face, her breasts, her shoulders. He seemed...enraptured, in awe, as if she was some mythical creature that he couldn’t believe was real. She couldn’t quite believe that this was really happening herself, but it felt too amazing to question.

She moaned his name, his real name, the name that she would call him until her dying breath.

He pulled back from her with a cry that ripped out of his lungs: a sigh, a sob that split through the core of him.

His name, forgotten to him for so long, was sacred coming from her. Her hungered moan, calling out for him, wanting all of him, was profanity. He loved how it sounded.

Slowing his thrusts, his left hand found her right leg. He brushed his fingers along the soft skin of her inner thigh, an untarnished expanse that he knew belonged to him alone. Wrapping his hand around the outside of her leg, he raised it, bringing her knee upward towards his chest and holding it there as he resumed his thrusts. Tendrils of wet, black hair fell in his face, but he didn't dare stop to push then away. He was close now. He didn't even allow the blooming soreness in his ribs to occupy space in his mind. He did not permit his thoughts to consider anything but her, the beautiful woman crying her love for him.

The new angle drew him even deeper into her cunt and she gave a breathless scream as his cock hit that perfect spot inside her. She grasped at his biceps, fingers curling into hard muscles as she clung to him for stability. The heat in her belly was becoming unbearable and she could feel herself getting closer to release.

He felt her need like a spark between them, and he slowed once more, bending down as far as he could to face her, trying to kiss her, though her leg between them halted this process. His right hand felt for her clit between the slow rocking of his hips.

 _Come for me,_ he commanded, his thoughts a blaze of desire. He wanted to prolong their union for as long as possible, but his body was aflame, a column of heat ready to consume him. He needed her.

His words sent a flood of fire through her body. It was as if the Force was laced through his voice and she couldn’t stop her body from obeying his command.

Her spine arched helplessly and her face contorted in a silent scream of pleasure as her orgasm ripped through her, white hot and blazing bright. Her internal muscles spasmed around him as he continued to thrust into her, dragging the sensations out of her until her voice returned to her and all she could do was gasp his name.

He wrapped his arm around her middle, clutching her to him as he felt his own climax throbbing through him, summoned by her cry. He felt the ripples of pleasure flood him, and he groaned, low and feral, as he felt himself emptying into her. He held onto her dearly, trying to keep her close and protect her from the harsh rock beneath her and the open sky above her.

After the furious blaze subsided and the orgasm ceased, she fell back slowly onto the rock and he buried his face in her middle, panting against her cool skin. He wanted to stay entangled in her, even as their bodies recovered. He tried not to think of the day that would come when she would leave him here, but they had this moment; he wanted to live in it forever.

"Rey," he panted into her stomach. He wanted to utter an oath of love between gasps, but he couldn't bring the words to his lips. He just smiled.

She let her breath come back to her slowly, her fingers combing gently through his hair.

“Ben,” she murmured.

He finally turned his face back to hers, his eyes tender as he traced his vision up her torso.

He slowly shifted his weight to his left arm, poised next to her head. He kissed her forehead, sending her gratitude and praise. His body felt light, complete. He felt whole.

She looped her arms around his neck, nuzzling up under his jaw. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, misting their overheated bodies with cool water. She shivered.

  
“We should get inside, love,” she mumbled against his throat. “Get you off that leg.”

He wanted to fight her, to stay with her here, but he was returning to his body, his leg in pain, the forest and cave and tangible world around him suddenly overwhelming his sense.

He nodded, and carefully slid himself out of her. Placing a quick kiss against her wet hair, he hobbled away from her a step, then offered her his hand so she could slide back down to the ground. Again he felt the desire to sweep her into his arms, cradling her like he had on the beach on Cantonica, but he was reminded that his body was not yet whole; in that moment, he simply _felt_ complete.

She slipped her hand into his easily. To think that she had hesitated to take his hand at one time. She giggled helplessly as she hopped down onto wobbly legs, pressing her forehead against his chest.

The Force hummed in the spaces between their fingers. His desire to hold her like he had so many months before floated across the bond, the mental connection soft and loose from their physical connection. She squeezed his fingers and snuck a kiss over his heart before tilting her head back to look up at him. Her smile was rain-wet and sunshine-radiant.

“I feel it too,” she murmured.

He smirked. “I now live in this cave. You now live in my head.”0

"Mmm, yes, your mind is rather cozy. Bit dark, though."

He called the staff back to his hand.

“Shall we?”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him hobble back into the cave. She shivered as the stone sucked any lingering heat out of the damp air. They managed to reclaim their little makeshift nest without any added exacerbation to Ben's injuries.

Satisfied that he was comfortable, Rey sat down on the edge of the pallet, twisting the water out of her hair and attempting to comb out the snarls with her fingers.

"I feel like I could sleep for a week," she bit out through a small yawn.

He felt his cheeks coloring with pride.

"I have no problem with that. Think the Resistance can spare you for a week of sleep?"

She turned to smile at him over her shoulder. She had never seen him more relaxed and it warmed her heart.

"I’m sure someone will have something to say about it. Besides, medically speaking, I would be concerned if we slept for a whole week. I believe that's called a coma, love."

"Yeah, I get it, you're the doctor. Rub it in, won't ya?"

She laughed and crawled across the mattress to kiss him softly, her hair hanging over one shoulder to tickle his cheek. She looked down at him with warm eyes.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to intimidate you with my vast wealth of medical knowledge."

His good hand tugged lazily at a lock of her damp hair.

"Haven't we already discussed that you're smarter than me? Really, I am getting insecure that you're going to realize that you are too good for me and you can just walk out of here at any moment."

"But then who would come around every other day to annoy you back to the Light?" Her thumb smoothed delicately over the score mark on his cheek. "And who would wash your hair when it rains?" She kissed him again, slower and sweeter this time, like warm honey. "And who would kiss you all soft and happy like this?"

He let his mouth linger on hers.

"I can't imagine anyone in the galaxy being half as good as you are at all of that." He reached out his hand and placed his broad palm on her lower back, drawing her in closer to him.

She eased down onto her elbows in the protective circle of his arm and rested her chin on his chest. He looked so content and it warmed her to her soul. Stripped of every last layer, wet from the rain, bandaged and beaten, and it was still the happiest she had ever seen him.

She remembered asking him a question once: _Why me?_ A lifetime ago, in a forgotten house, wearing a borrowed robe. A lifetime ago, when he had stood before her enshrouded in shadows from head to toe and more miserable than ever. A lifetime ago, when she wasn’t sure she loved him yet. She found herself answering her own question, as if an echo had sounded from the cave around them.

"You are...the only person in this galaxy who understands me. Completely, acutely, and somehow without judgment." She paused to breathe for a moment. "Before you lodged yourself in my mind, I had never allowed anyone close enough to understand me. I'm trying to be better about letting people in now, but it's hard."

She shifted in his embrace to regard him.

"Even when someone loves you, they judge and pity and try to fix things that no one can control. But with you...you just understand. You see me for what I am, not what I could be, or how I'm useful. You see me and you know me, in the deepest part of my mind and soul."

She laid her cheek against his heart.

"I hope you don't still believe that you are unlovable, Ben. You are the only one I could ever fathom being with."

He smiled, a grin that rose from deep within him, scattering the last shadows that latched onto his heart.

“When you put it that way, I sound pretty good,” he said with a laugh, holding her close against him. “If you can love a nerf-herder like me, I must be worth something.”

He knew that he was flawed. He had to work through his anger, his hate, his regret, but as he looked at Rey embracing him, damp and bare and beautiful, he felt that for once he was not afraid to show fear. He was allowed to falter. He was allowed to try and stumble and even fail.

She loved him, and as long as he loved her, served her, tried his best for her, he would be enough.

“I know that whatever you are and whatever you will be are worth more than the entire First Order and Resistance combined. If you think there’s something good in me, then, well, I’m going to trust your judgement.”

He kissed her gently. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

She hummed contentedly and nestled into his embrace.

“I’ll do my best. And I know that you will, too.”

She swallowed another yawn, nuzzling closer and resting her hand over his heart.

“Will you rest with me, love? We’re safe. No one has to keep watch.”

He rested his right arm across his stomach, their exertions taking their toll on his healing bones. He raised his left hand to Rey, his finger tracing a sleepy line down her cheek, across her jaw, and down her neck. An imaginary scar to mirror his. Her skin was cold as the stone around them.

“I can think of nothing I would love more.”

He flicked his fingers, pulling the blanket over them and burying his nose into her hair. He inhaled deeply of the scent of her: green leaves and sun-baked earth and a sweetness that he could scarcely describe. She was here and safe and achingly real in his arms. And he was...happy. At peace. He felt her press a kiss into his shoulder.

"I love you, Ben," she murmured against his skin.

He gripped her tighter before pulling away to face her.

"Rey, I love you with all I am.” He smiled groggily at her. “I hope it’s enough."

"It's more than enough," she replied. "It's everything."

 

  
BB-8 came barrelling through the halls of the base, whirring and screaming all the way. Before the droid even made it to the lounge where Poe had been reviewing some files on a datapad, the captain was instantly on his feet.

“Really, buddy? Already?” He had been anticipating this, but not quite so soon.

BB-8 chirped and beeped, patiently repeating what it had been shouting on the way there, before spinning around and heading back toward the hangar, Poe running full tilt to keep up. The two picked up a small procession of curious spectators as they charged outside. The rain had resolved to a slight sprinkling, though the small silver skimmer that was landing on the strip was almost camouflaged against the slate sky as it descended.

The landing gear deployed, and the gangway was released with a hiss.

It took a moment for General Organa, dressed in diplomatic finery, to exit the ship, an antique blue and white astromech on her heels.

She moved slowly, purposefully, but when she approached Poe, her eyes were wide. She looked haunted.

“Where is my son?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm Killtheselights, and my kinks are terrible music jokes and sex involving geological formations. Swipe right if you like new adventures, themed Spotify playlists, ramen, and stalagmites in unmentionable places.
> 
>  
> 
> Hi I'm TheLadyoftheHouse and red pens really tickle my naughty bits. Swipe right, oh god, please swipe right.


	20. Epilogue

_Poor lady, she were better love a dream._  
Twelfth Night, II.I

* * *

  
Though it was packed with First Order personnel, the throne room was positively sepulchral when the turbolift doors hissed open.

A lone figure emerged slowly, a barely audible click echoing through the room with each slow, agonizing step.

The Stormtroopers who had met him in the landing bay waited on either side of the lift doors. They had been given instructions to escort the intruder directly to an audience with the First Order’s leadership. Now, they held back to watch the spectacle unfold.

The rows of First Order officers in their dark, pressed uniforms and Stormtroopers of varying ranks and battalions scarcely moved as the man passed through them, limping along the long aisle that divided the vast chamber. The officers’ eyes followed the wretch, though their heads remained at attention.

The man seemed to stumble a few times, but righted himself with a pained hiss, clutching desperately onto the staff in his left hand.

No one moved to help him. The air was thick with anticipation, as soldiers in unison wondered at his fate. Would he make it, or would he fall?

Finally, the man stopped before the steps to the throne. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting the cold, unflinching countenance of Armitage Hux, who stood protectively beside the stark obsidian chair, high-backed and severe.

The reports that had filtered to him from the communications deck in the past hour had seemed unreal, a nightmarish fantasy, like one of those horrible ghost stories told to frighten children, too ridiculous to be plausible. Despite his convictions, Hux couldn’t deny the apparition standing before him, panting with the strain of his lonely procession.

Though the man was caked in dirt and the jumpsuit he wore was unfamiliar, he knew that wild black hair. He knew that scar, cutting through filthy pale skin and a jaw dotted with inelegant stubble. He knew those weak, sad eyes, the ones that usually rested above a black mask that resembled a muzzle, perfect for a mad dog.

 _This_ , however, was no rabid beast, but a sad pup. A beaten, wounded animal.

This man, barely standing upright in his muddied black boots, with a leg bound hastily in grimy bandages and a slapdash sling on his right arm, was familiar to Hux; the general simply chose not to give him the dignity of acknowledgement. Why not have some fun with the miserable creature?

“So you're the one who would think to give orders to my men?” Hux sneered, his thin lips twisted into a mocking smirk. “By calling yourself Supreme Leader? You must be mad if you think that drivel will frighten the likes of me, boy.”

The beast in question struggled to catch his breath, seeming to ignore the general’s taunts. It rankled Hux; the Kylo Ren he knew would be throwing the mother of all tantrums at the insults. But he was...quiet, oddly focused. There was power about the man that seemed to hide just beneath his skin. As if he didn’t need to show his strength to enforce it. It made Hux’s blood churn.

“How are we to believe you are who you say?” he asked, his voice a vicious hiss that seemed to slither into the ears of those assembled. “Who do you think you are?”

After a few seconds, standing rigid while he regained his breath, the broken man, leaning against the strange staff, rose to his fullest height. Hux blanched. Though the stranger seemed frail outwardly, when he opened his mouth to speak, he commanded the cavernous room.

“My name is Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order,” the man boomed, eyes locked onto the platform before him. “I have returned to reclaim my throne.”

 

This nightmare was a familiar one.

_He had been here many times in his memory. The salt seemed to swirl around him like jagged snowflakes and with each step his boots revealed more of the blood red earth beneath him. The broken soul of his saber shot a familiar jarring vibration up his arm, juddering in his bones and numbing his hand as he clenched his jagged weapon in his fist. Every muscle tensed. Every hair stood electrified on end. Every ounce of focus turned on the old man standing before him, mocking him as he always had._

_There was Uncle Luke. His parents’ last hope to bring their son back from the brink of Darkness. Uncle Luke, who would take breaks from his travels to watch over his nephew when his parents were away, just to check in on the boy._

_Uncle Luke, who was willing to murder him for who he became. Who would have killed him while he slept with barely a second thought._

_Somewhere in the edge of his mind, Ben knew it was a dream; Luke Skywalker was dead. He hadn’t stepped foot on the planet in over a year. But every time he saw the spectre of the old man staring him down on Crait, something in him snapped._

_He never forgot the look in Luke’s eye that night in the temple. The night Kylo Ren was brought to life._

_Snoke was dead. One tormenter gone._

_One remained._

_It did not matter that it was a dream._

_Every time he charged at him._

_Fury and fear seared hot and sharp in his gut and he charged. His blade cut through the body, as he had in memory, time and time again._

_But this time, instead of passing through like vapor, he felt his blade pass through something solid._

_He heard a small gasp of surprise and heard the body fall, the salt crunching beneath it._

_As he slid to a halt, exhilarated, he turned to see the beast, slain at last._

_He did not expect to see her._

_Her eyes, the rich hazel ones that had traced his face and body and bore into the core of him, now looked up blankly at the darkening sky._

_He could barely bring his legs to walk over to the fragments of her on the ground._

_This was a dream._

_He fell to his knees._

_This was a dream._

_He reached out for her hand. It felt real. He felt the weight of her fingers in his._

_This was a dream._

_He thought he heard her gasp his name. He watched her breath leave her. Her hand slid from his._

_This was supposed to be a dream._

_He felt the rush of the Force, the familiar silence crushing around him, as it had when he had last seen Rey in their bond so long ago._

_However, Rey’s head was still on his lap, her body lifeless. She could not gaze at him from the Falcon now._

_The woman who appeared to him was his mother._

_She stared down at her son. Her expression was cold._

_He felt the scream ripping out of him, tearing at his lungs and his throat and he swore he could hear it. The planet was a blur of white and red as the ground churned around him and he felt the sting of the salt cutting at his face as his eyes snapped open._

Ben was jolted awake, but despite the panic that gripped him from his latest nightmare, he remained still.

Rey’s face was pressed against his chest; his heart was beating so wildly beneath her head he was surprised the frantic rhythm hadn’t disturbed her from her rest, but he watched her body rise and fall slowly with each breath, and he gradually began to feel himself relax as well.

He was in the cave. It had been just a dream.

Rey was whole. He wrapped his arm tighter around her, and she mumbled in her sleep at the change in pressure.

It had been a dream. But his head couldn’t stop spinning.

Ben’s distress filtered slowly into her mind, groggy and thick with sleep. She unconsciously curled tighter into his side, as if instinct had pushed her to shield him from the anxiety creeping in on him with her own body.

As Rey slowly came to wakefulness, she felt the tremors just beneath his muscles. She silently turned her face to brush a gentle kiss against the nearest skin she could find.

“Ben?” she said softly.

“Hey,” he whispered. His eyes were transfixed on her. He had been scanning her face, trying to memorize every dimple, every freckle. Anything to pull him out of his own head and into the present. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Shh...Don’t worry about that, love.”

She studied him intently and silently for a moment. She knew what had stolen Ben out of his sleep.

“Are you alright?” she murmured gently.

A gentle tendril of consciousness floated from her to him, seeking the cause of his distress and intending to soothe it.

He held his breath, then released it slowly, letting flashes of images flow in the space between them. The angry red salt of Crait, the shuddering of his saber in his fist, the fear, the rage, her eyes, blank and unseeing. The hatred on his mother's face.

And this time, he even managed to find the words.

"I don't know. I don't...it felt _real,_ Rey. I saw you... I-I killed you. I didn’t...didn’t mean to. But I saw you dead and..."

He had felt his blade slice clear through flesh. He knew he had felt that before, a number of times. His father came to mind.

He held her tighter to him.

"I can't lose you."

She reached up and laid a soft hand on his scarred cheek, tilting his face down to her. He was pale, drawn, and his eyes were haunted and unfocused by the images conjured up by his own mind.

"Ben, look at me."

When those dark eyes finally reached hers, she smiled gently and brushed a kiss against his lips. She could feel him shaking against her as she pulled away to look at him again.

"You are not going to lose me," she whispered. "I'm right here. I'm alive. I'm safe with you."

His hands, which had so gently slid across her skin, now seemed to clutch onto her, as if afraid she would slip from his fingers. She was reminded of his last nightmare, after she had sent the Darkness into his mind. She couldn’t hurt him, but he couldn’t yet know that. The dark things that had lived in his mind for so long haunted him, even though she knew Snoke’s voice was now silent in his head. The phantom of it still lingered.

He looked away.

“I’m afraid. I’m not strong enough to see you go again.”

She curled around him protectively, stroking his hair with soft fingers as she wrapped him in her embrace. Her Force signature pulsed with her heartbeat, warm and alive and steady.

"It's alright, Ben. I'm not going anywhere just yet. And when I have to go, I'll come back. We always come back to each other."

She kissed his forehead, sending him images of hyperspace travel entwined in each other, of a little house on a green planet, of quiet nights and peaceful days. Of a loving future just within their reach.

"For now, I'm right here. Safe. In your arms. Exactly where I belong."

Though she was pressed against him, he allowed himself to pull just the slightest bit on the cord that, against all logic, connected them across the galaxy through the Force.

She squeezed him tighter in response.

_I'm right here, my love. I am always with you._

His trembling hands felt for his favorite spot along her back, his fingers grazing the ribbon on his wrist. She was here. She was whole.

His muscles twitched as his hands danced across her ribs, his touch no longer lustful, but beseeching. His calloused fingertips learned the curvatures of each rib, the hard ridges of her shoulder blades, the soft dips of each vertebra. Each small breath he exhaled brushed against her lips. His hands rested on her hips, and his fingers curled into her skin. His eyes finally seemed to return to focus on her face. He seemed to return to himself.

He kissed her gently, his lips lingering on hers.

_I want you. Always._

Her eyelids fluttered closed and she sighed, her own fingers curling around the back of his neck to soothe the tense spot at the base of his skull. She pulled back to smile softly and pressed her forehead against his. She felt a burst of Light radiate out from him at her touch: Ben.

“There you are,” she murmured. “Found you again.”

He beamed, his pulse finally slowing back to a rest.

“You won’t lose me so easily again,” he smiled. “I’ll make sure of it. No matter where the Resistance sends you, I’ll always be with you too, cyar’ika. Until you’re sick of me. And then after.”

She laughed quietly and snuck another kiss.

“Works for me.”

A ray of sudden sunlight glinted off the wet stone and lanced through the gloom of the cave. Rey turned to look out into the brightening afternoon. She exhaled slowly.

“The rain’s stopped,” she said, quiet and somber.

“Oh.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I can guess what that means.”

She looked back at him, her arms tightening around him.

What she wouldn’t have given to stay. To be with him as long as she wanted. To never have to leave the warmth of his arms and the beating of his heart against her own. To walk with him in the sun, free and safe and at peace.

“Soon, Ben.”

She smoothed back the hair that had fallen into his face, impossibly mussed from sleep and sex and rain and yet still the softest thing she had ever touched.

“You and I are going to walk out of this cave together, and no one is going to stop us. Not even my damned sense of responsibility.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved her hands away. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be safe here.”

He grinned wickedly. “Besides, if you go, that just means I have time to rest up, so I’ll be ready to do that again.”

She returned his smile and nipped playfully at his earlobe.

“What an excellent idea, my love.”

He gave her one more kiss, longing yet content at the same time. His lips against hers told her of his adoration, and he hated to break away.

“I get them occasionally.” He paused. “Rarely.”

His hand pinched her plump ass. “Now I’m going to be getting bad ones if you don’t get going soon.”

She yelped, swatting at his wicked fingers.

“And I’m guessing that’s the first of a long line of these bad ideas? Dare I even ask what the others might be?”

His expression was suddenly dark, hungry.

“Pin you against that crate and fuck you until you cry out every name you’ve ever heard me called.”

Her breath caught, her heart stuttered, and she had to stop herself from jumping his broken bones.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled breathlessly. “Such language. I’m too late. It would seem that I’ve already corrupted you.”

She grinned and kissed him, deep and hard, before pulling away abruptly.

“Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

“You corrupting me? The Jedi who said I had the body of a god? Never would have guessed.” He rolled his eyes and smiled at her. “I think our minds have been entwined too long; my speech is only going to become steadily more filthy the more time I spend in your head.”

“You promise?”

He gave her a lopsided shrug. “We can only hope.”

He ran his good hand along the backs of her thighs.

“Of course, to become as dirty-minded as you, it will probably take time. Something you don’t have much more of today…”

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled, extricating herself from his embrace. “I get it! I know when I’m not welcome anymore.”

She rolled up to stand, stretching languorously in the sunshine, her skin tinted golden and unbearably smooth. She winked down at him as she casually tried to comb the snarls out of her mess of hair.

“I would simply _hate_ for you to get any...indecorous ideas because of me.”

“You know you love it when I have indecorous thoughts.”

She bent over to gather up her clothes, making sure to take her time standing up. She pulled her basics on and shot him a look over her shoulder.

“Oh I do, lover mine,” she purred.

“I can feel them, you know,” he said, feeling her smug satisfaction as she slowly rolled her underwear up her thighs.

“Good. After all, communication is so vital in relationships.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “In what now?”

She chuckled. “All that education and all those languages and you’re fumbling on that one?”

“Oh, I know the word, of course. But the practicalities of it…” His hands seemed to fumble with an invisible, amorphous object. He turned his gaze back on her. “That’s what we have?”

She paused halfway through retying her breast band. “Well, do you have another word for it? In my understanding, this--” She gestured between them with one hand. “--is what one would generally call a relationship.”

He nodded slowly, considering her words. “You haven’t tried to kill me for several days, so I guess that _would_ be the name for it.”

Her laughter buckled her over and echoed off the cave walls.

“R’iia save me, _that’s_ the only basis you have for a relationship?”

“Not the only one, but recently…”

He demonstratively began to count on his fingers, muttering to himself.

“Actually, now that you mention it, most of the people I’ve had any sort of prolonged communication with have tried to kill me at some point.” He laughed. “My mother even formed an army to get rid of me. So maybe I should have known you loved me before you said anything: you let me live.”

Her hands fell away from her ribs and she turned back to look at him, her eyes soft.

“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured, coming to kneel by him just off the edge of the pallet.

“Wouldn’t that be funny...if something in me knew that I had to keep you alive so we could fall in love with each other. If we had been waiting for the other all this time and only just figured it out.”

He tucked his good arm behind his head.

“You mean you haven’t been madly in love with me since the moment you saw me charging through the forest towards you? I believe you were shooting at me…”

His brow furrowed.

“This is a really disturbing pattern, now that I think about it.”

She rolled her eyes and pecked his cheek before standing again and going on the search for the rest of her clothes. She tugged her undershirt on, shuddering at the slightly damp fabric clinging to her skin. Ben continued.

“I knew you were different the first moment I encountered you. I didn’t think love was a possibility—I didn’t even think about it back then, I was so wrapped up in Snoke’s bidding,” he sneered. “But around you...I felt something different. Significant. And I didn’t know what that meant until the Force connected us directly.”

Her jumpsuit hung heavily around her slim hips and she had to tie the sleeves around her waist tightly in order to persuade the garment from falling all the way down her legs.

He watched her as he continued.

“Even when we connected, you weren’t exactly against the idea of killing me, but when I realized you couldn’t shoot me, I felt hopeful I could figure out what that different feeling was. It wasn’t love. Not then. But it became that way. Pretty quickly, too.”

She could feel the goosebumps prickling up her skin, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was due to the cold clothing or Ben’s eyes on her, watching her every move as if her dressing was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

“When did it happen?” she asked quietly, fiddling with the knot at her waist. “When did you know that your feelings had changed?”

He looked away, thinking. “I didn’t know what to call it, but when I asked you to join me and you turned away...that wouldn’t have been so devastating if you weren’t someone to me. And I couldn’t make that caring go away, no matter how much I tried.”

“I’m glad you stopped trying.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I think...I think by the time I left Canto Bight, I had already given up trying to hate you. And it made loving you hurt so much more when I couldn’t reach you. But now, I think the pain helped keep me going. Kept me alive to be angry with you.” She smiled wryly. “And we know how long that lasted.”

“It’s not because I’m likeable,” he said smirking. “Can’t possibly be why you changed your mind about me.”

“It’s the hair.”

He cocked his head, offended. “Not the body?”

“Oh that came later, love.”

He grinned proudly. “And how about the broody introspection?”

“I’m surprised you’re not calling that your ‘charm.’”

“Are you saying I’m charming?”

She smirked and leaned in just shy of his lips. “Devilishly.”

“I can live with that.” He leaned into her mouth, angling for a deep, hungered kiss, but after a brief peck Rey pulled away from him, laughing. He groaned in dismay.

“Come on now, Ben, I just got dressed. Can’t have you undoing all of that.”

He pouted and shifted his weight to rest on his elbow. He called her armwraps to his hand.

“Need help with these?” he asked softly.

The wicked gleam in her eyes dimmed and was replaced with warmth. She sidled closer to him and held out her arm. He sat up carefully and settled beside her.

Slowly, delicately, feeling her practiced motions in her mind, he started at the wrist and began to carefully wind the fabric around her slender arm, mindful not to overwork his bad shoulder. He felt like an archivist closing away a treasure as her skin vanished under the tan bandages.

“Done,” he said proudly, and held out his good hand. “Ready for the other?”

She extended the other and watched him serenely as he wrapped her up with careful diligence.

He paused, considering her wrist.

“You still have it?”

“Always,” she murmured.

Taking her hand in his, he brought her wrist to his lips and kissed the red fabric there, before returning to his task. Her fingers curled briefly around his jaw and she sighed, lulled into stillness by his hands on her arm. This part of her routine had never been anyone else’s but hers; a covering up, a shield made of old linen and fraying threads that she fixed in place every morning. Now...now, with Ben’s warm fingers brushing across delicate skin and moving gently with the old fabric, it felt as if he was readying her for battle. Slipping some of his own steel between the layers to protect her when he could not be with her. She leaned her head against his good shoulder once he finished.

 _Thank you_ , she whispered in his mind.

He ran a finger along the tightly wound wrappings.

 _It’s not like taking down braids, exactly, but maybe we have our own ritual now_ , he thought, meeting her gaze carefully, his eyes wide but warm. Something special, just for us.

She nestled her head into the crook of his neck. _Yes, that sounds just right._

She reached up to tilt his face down to hers and kissed him sweetly.

He almost became lost in her kiss until the light filtering into the cave caught his eye in just the right way. He broke the caress, and turned to squint at the opening of the cave. She followed his gaze.

“For once, you don’t have to worry about me flying out of here. No one’s on my tail, it’s daylight, and the rain has stopped. This might actually be a pleasant ride.”

She stood reluctantly, pulling her few belongings together into her pack. She ventured outside for a moment. She closed her eyes in the late afternoon sunlight, smelling the forest, fresh from the rain, and paused to grab Ben’s clothes from where they were left to dry and chucked them at him playfully. He jolted as the fabric landed on him. Her eyes twinkled.

“You know what we should do the next time I come? We should go for a ride around the woods. Get you out in some fresh air. Maybe we could find a lake that no one knows about and go swimming.”

The possibilities lit her insides up like fireworks. “Just have some fun. You do know how to have fun, right?”

“Isn’t that what we did against the cave wall? Or on the rock outside earlier?” he said with a feral grin.

In truth, her suggestions sounded like they were from another lifetime. He remembered swimming as a child. He thought back to their frantic escape on her speeder the other night. He imagined riding behind Rey, arms around her middle, loving and tender, not terrified and desperate, but free. Of seeing her nose crinkle in laughter when he splashed her in a vast, clear lake. Each vision felt like a sweet dream. A rare treasure only told about as a bedtime fable. He wanted to do whatever she suggested. He was almost impatient.

“That sounds...perfect. As long as you think I’m safe out there.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” she said fiercely.

“I can’t doubt you for a second.”  
  
He smiled, but his eyes seemed to wander, as if he was suddenly transported somewhere else.

“Ben? Still with me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, gaze darting across the walls and slowly returning to Rey. “I’m just... I think I’m trying to come back to myself. After all that time spent with our minds open...I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

He gave her a weak smile. “I think I’m just having a hard time climbing back into my own head. My thoughts aren’t exactly sorting themselves well.”

She crouched beside him, her gaze intent on his face. She reached out to gently card her fingers through his hair.

“Do you think it could still be the nightmare?” she mumbled.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” He buried his face in his palm, rubbing at his eyes, trying to scatter the visions that crept back into his mind. “It was a fairly strong one.”

He took a slow breath. “I’ll be better soon. Promise. I might just need to get up and wander a bit.”

He smiled. “You know I can do that now, right?”

She laughed. “And all I ask is that you don’t rebreak yourself.”

He considered the underwear Rey had thrown him.

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Why do I feel like that was a glimpse of you in power?” she snickered.

“Did you find it as seductive as I’d hoped?” he asked wryly, carefully trying to pull his undergarments on without drawing too much attention to himself.

“Oh, absolutely.”

She fiddled with the fastenings on her pack. Stalling.

“Is there anything you want me to bring back for you?” Her voice was quiet, the question hopeful but she couldn’t help the sadness that crept into the words.

He froze. The haze in his mind seemed to pulse. It was almost blinding. Cold sunlight reflecting off salt. Why wouldn’t the nightmare go away?

“Just you,” he whispered. “I just need you back here. Whenever you can make it.”

He looked up at her. Abandoning his attempt to dress, he reached out his good hand to her. “I’ll see you in the morning, right?”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him, pouring all of her love into him.

“You’ll see me in the morning, Ben,” she whispered breathlessly when she finally pulled away.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured, curling his good hand around one of hers. “Be safe out there.”

She smiled and stood, shouldering her bag. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

“I’ll be here.”

Rey walked to the mouth of the cave, turned back to wave at him again, and set out into the glowing afternoon.

Ben waited until he felt her vanish from his senses, like sand falling through his fingers until there were only a few grains of her left. He summoned the staff to his hand and pushed himself onto the crate, finally wrangling himself into his undergarments, then into his splint and then his still damp but slightly fresher coveralls. He tied the arms around his waist and slid back into his boots, lest he slice his feet on the rough stone floor of the cave, and bound one of his bandages on the outside of his jumpsuit for extra support. After considering the amount of physical activity he had undertaken in the last several hours, he thought that Rey would appreciate him taking some of the strain off his collarbone as well.

Grabbing the wrap for his sling, he considered the fabric. The gauzy off-white material would be perfect for the doll he was making Rey. He had wanted to show her what he had done, but perhaps it was best he had forgotten it; it needed some work before it looked less like a bundle of wire and more like a comforting toy. He needed something to wrap the head to make it look plusher, more like the doll she had once had. He stood up off the crate then opened it, digging around for the doll. He found Rey’s note. He felt for a dry pocket on his person, and stuffed it in, before pulling out the new Captain Raeh. He ripped a small section of the fabric (he was certain Rey wouldn’t mind) and began to wrap it around the doll’s head and new limbs.

It was a challenge. There was something still prodding at his mind, even though Rey was growing more distant from him by the second.

Maybe he just needed rest, he thought. But he wasn’t ready to lie down again and feel the absence of Rey by his side.

He would work and he would wait. Maybe he would try the bond tonight, try to see if they could still connect across the Force.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling the roiling in his mind, grappling with it until he could see no way of subduing it. He opened his eyes again to the dim cave, and he fidgeted with doll in his hands once more.

He would talk to Rey again as soon as he could. That might help settle his emotions.

He ran a hand through his hair.

In the meantime, he just needed to clear his head.

 

The dappled sunlight flooding through the forest made Rey’s flight to base the most beautiful in recent memory. She sped past golden lakes, rolling hills, and solemn ravines, her heart practically singing in harmony with the life around her. She was light, she was whole; her entire being seemed electrified by the comfort of Ben’s body entwined with hers, and her mind felt the comfort of his presence in her life once more.

She tossed her head back and let out a whoop as the wind tugged through her hair. She elected to ignore the strange hum buzzing just behind her ear. Ben’s nightmare couldn’t have burrowed so deep into her own mind that that foggy feeling affected her? Could it?

She shook it off. _Nothing is wrong. For once, we’re safe._

She urged the speeder faster, as if to leave the uneasiness behind. She’d get back to base, see Finn and Rose and Poe for dinner, have a few rounds of sabacc, and see if she could connect with Ben before bed. A pleasant evening ahead. She smiled and relaxed into each maneuver as she zipped through the thick trees.

The forest started to thin, heralding the clearing that housed the Resistance base. As she broke through onto the tarmac, she noted absently that the usual bustle of speeders and mechanic workers was still, empty. She parked her bike in its usual spot; a shaft of sunlight caught in a puddle scattered ribbons of light onto her boots. She splashed through it with a grin and made her way to the hangar.

Her smile disappeared and her blood ran cold.

The bay doors were open. The entire Resistance crew stationed on Takodana was present to greet her, and though she found a few familiar faces in the crowd, none seemed pleased to see her.

Standing at the front of the assembled pack was Poe; beside him was the cause of Rey’s distraction, Ben’s nightmares. General Leia Organa stepped forward to meet her, but before the older woman could reach her, Poe intervened.

“Out exploring again, huh?” he asked, expression cold, despite the warm early evening. “Didn’t want to miss the rain, is that it?”

Rey’s stomach twisted so sharply that she nearly stumbled. Rose’s face came into focus in the crowd, hovering behind Finn’s shoulder, his own face blank with fury. She appeared distraught, but there was a hardness in her expression. Resolution, maybe. Had she kept her peace?

Rey schooled her face out of the panic that had lodged in her veins, fear a thousand times more potent than what she felt on her flight to the cave. She turned her face to the General, hoping that her smile looked genuine and not terrified.

“Welcome back, General Organa,” she said quietly, swallowing the tremor in her voice. “You’ve been missed.”

“Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you,” Poe snapped. Leia put a hand on his arm, silencing him.

“Rey,” the woman said, walking forward so slowly it seemed as if she were floating, drifting over to her.

Despite her confident posture and effortless, regal grace, Leia’s eyes, the same warm ones Rey had glimpsed in a cave less than an hour ago, revealed a latent terror as she examined her face.

“Where is he? I know you can feel him.”

Rey’s smile dropped.

Finally, after a lifetime of scrapes and near misses, her luck had at last run out.

“I don’t know what you—”

“ _STOP LYING_ ,” Poe bellowed, shaking with anger. He stepped forward so he was face-to-face with Rey. “I went to the cabin. You weren’t there. _Nothing_ was in there. That wasn’t some retreat; you were harboring someone in the woods. You looked me dead in the eye yesterday and you lied to me. Where is he now?”

Rey blinked and exhaled slowly. The panic that had curdled her guts minutes before had done its work; her insides were numb, her bones were durasteel, her blood was ice. No matter what happened from here, Ben would be safe. No one knew where he was. She would keep him safe until her last breath. She stood her ground and faced down her commanding officer.

“Where is who, Captain?” she said flatly.

“Don’t insult either of us by playing stupid,” Poe snarled. “Kylo Ren. You’ve been lying. We know he’s here now. Where is Kylo Ren?”

“Kylo Ren is dead.” Her voice was cold as the void. “He was shot down during the battle over Takodana and his ship crashed. No survivors.” Her eyes flashed, sharp and crystalline at Poe’s face. “I’m surprised you don’t remember, Captain. You certainly celebrated the victory enough.”

Poe’s nostrils flared in rage. Leia stepped between them.

“Rey, I felt my son. Please. I need to know where he is,” she pleaded, her expression grave.

Leia rested her hand on Rey’s, and a sensation, barely an image, flashed into Rey’s memory: Leia’s arms wrapped tight around a young boy with dark black hair crying on her lap. She rocked and hummed and tried to soothe the child.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the sensation vanished.

The younger woman turned to the General. Her face softened minutely as she briefly squeezed her hand back and let go.

“Kylo Ren is dead.”

Leia’s eyes widened for a moment as understanding dawned on her. In a moment, her face grew stern, focused, and she nodded so minutely it was likely no one else saw it.

“That’s not true,” Poe spat. “The General felt him as soon as she touched down. I’m giving you one more chance, Rey. Where is he?”

Rey took a deep breath, widened her stance to perfect attention, and looked straight ahead.

“Kylo Ren is dead,” she repeated, clearly and loudly enough for all assembled to hear the words.

Behind Poe and Leia, Rey could see Rose flinching, her eyes wide. Finn put a protective arm out in front of her. He wouldn’t meet her stare.

Poe put his hands on his hips and sighed.

“I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“Poe?” Leia asked.

Paying his superior no heed, Poe held up a firm hand, a signal.

A small group emerged from the hangar and marched her away from the assembled eyes of the Resistance crew, Leia trailing and protesting.

When she stopped, her mind was filled with a familiar, resounding silence, just as she faintly registered a chorus of metallic clicks surrounding her.

Ben felt that tug, the pulling of the Force as their bond connected them, the familiarity of it soothing. He was surprised to feel it so soon after Rey left. He felt a smile snagging the corners of his mouth as the bond snapped into place. He put the doll aside and grabbed the staff, rising to his feet to greet her, but when she appeared before him, her back was to him, her hands raised behind her head.

“Rey?” he asked.

No. Not now, please, not now, not like this. Rey pleaded with every god she knew of to spare him this. She couldn’t move, despite the commands being hurled at her. Every last blaster was trained on her and she couldn’t clear her mind enough to reach out to him.

Poe approached her, his expression hard.

“Rey of Jakku, you are hereby charged with treason, for aiding and abetting the Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren.” He stopped in front of her, just out of arm’s reach. “You have one last chance to confess your crimes and possibly save yourself from a firing squad.”

Rey gave a shuddering exhale. She could feel Ben at her back, hear him scraping along the stony floor of the cave, the staff clacking rhythmically against the rocks. She felt dizzy, her sight was doubled; the shadowed woods beyond the hangar surrounded the bright mouth of the cave and the chill of the air in the stone hollow prickled against her shoulders despite the warm breeze.

“Where. Is. Kylo. Ren?”

“Rey? Cyar’ika, what’s going on?”

She fought past the urge to cry out to Ben, to beg him to flee, to turn around and fling her arms around his neck. She stood her ground, a shield of sand and flesh and rain-soaked hair. She would do what she had to in order to keep him safe.

“Kylo Ren is dead,” she stated, hating the words despite their truth. Kylo Ren was dead. There was nothing left of the shadow man inside Ben Solo. “Kylo Ren is dead.”

Ben cursed the bond for showing him so little. Having traversed the cave, he finally turned to look at her face.

“Rey, I’m here. What…”

He saw her expression, fury and terror mingling into a grimace, and he dropped the staff in shock when he saw her.

He tentatively reached out and cupped his hand to her cheek, and it was is if he could see the scene unfolding around her through her eyes.

A small crowd was gathered around her, blasters raised. Dameron, and someone else loomed closest.

_Mom?_

Of course. The nightmare. The haze. It was her. He had been too distracted to put it together.

It seemed from Leia’s disbelieving expression that she was looking not only at Rey, but at _him_.

The vision broke, and he found himself back in the cave, staring again at the Force impression of Rey under his hands.

Rey’s eyes, unfocused, snapped to meet his.

“Run,” she whispered through unmoving lips, barely a sound, and she fell hard to her knees.

“No!” Ben shouted, his voice echoing in the empty cave. He groaned in pain as he dropped his body, afraid to break her gaze. “No, I can’t leave you!”

Her eyes shone, swimming with unshed tears as she looked back up at him. His face had gone deathly pale in the late afternoon light and his own eyes flashed with panic. Someone wrenched her arms from behind her head and she winced as her joints protested.

“What can I do? Rey, sweetheart, please. Tell me what to do.” His shaking fingers found her face again as he tried to keep her eyes on his.

Invisible hands pulled her arms straight back, as if to put binders on her. They were out of time.

“ _GO_!” she screamed.

There was a click of metal on metal and she was gone, vanishing from beneath his fingertips.

Silence.

Run, she had commanded. Go.

He was alone in the cave, blinded by tears and breathless from screaming when he finally returned to awareness.

Run. Go.

He wanted to go back for her, find the base, trade himself for her, whatever it took, but as he yanked and tugged on their bond, he felt nothing but emptiness. No Rey, no connection, as if there had never been one. He wouldn’t be able to find her if he tried, not by his usual means.

He could follow her orders and run out into the forest. He could likely survive for a while, as he had told her. But they knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was here. He would be found in no time, especially since he was still barely mobile. She was trying to buy him time, and he couldn’t waste a moment of what she had paid so dearly for.

He looked up, into the darkness and stacks of crates that wound deeper and deeper into the cliffside.

He would take his chances.

He grabbed the staff, hauling himself to his feet, and summoned his cloak to him. He shoved whatever rations he could into his pockets and began to limp back past the stacks of crates and dusty bundles, deeper into the winding cave, his pulse the pounding of a war drum in his ears, behind his eyes.

Run. Go.

His shoulders bounced harshly against the walls as he pushed the candledroid along, lighting even more neglected stacks of wares from pirates and smugglers of fallen republics and regimes. His leg was in agony, but he just kept hobbling deeper and deeper, as far as he could go. The smell of rot was burning his nose and the air was damp in his lungs but he could barely process anything but Rey’s scream, telling him to run away. Would there ever come a time when her desperate cries wouldn’t haunt him?

He kept going. And wouldn’t stop running until they caught him or he found her again.

Deeper and deeper into the heart of the planet. He stumbled and fell a few times. He felt through the Force, trying to see if there was an end in reach.

The cave, Rey had mentioned, opened up near the ruins of Maz’s Palace. It was far off, he could tell. At this rate, he was too weak and slow to make it. They would catch up to him first.

But there was something nearby. Something he could reach.

 

It was dark by the time they found the cave entrance. Poe offered Leia a hand to help her out of the speeder. She slapped it away, and disembarked without a word. She wandered inside, as if perusing the works in an art museum.

There were traces of him everywhere. She could feel him on the innocuous signs of life: old ration packs, a canteen. Soap, a razor.

She saw the tattered black remains of the Supreme Leader’s jacket, balled up on a pallet. This was him, too. The side of her son she had tried to deny, tried to stave off. Instead, she had fed his hate by mistake, making his Darkness stronger.

_Kylo Ren is dead._

Rey had found her son. Rey had pulled Ben Solo out of the wreckage of Kylo Ren’s ship. But that was not enough. Justice needed to be served.

Leia could not deny her people that.

A strange item caught her eye. She picked up the little orange bundle of fabric and wires. It resembled a little Resistance pilot, Leia mused. Something about that little pile of scrap felt significant, though; she felt her son on it. Holding the toy, she remembered the Tooka doll that had been Ben’s first companion. Running her fingers over the Starbird, she felt unusual fingerprints, traces she rarely associated with her Ben: compassion, a strange, gentle empathy. This had been made with love. But it had been made by him, she was sure of it.

She shoved it into her pocket carefully.

Another object caught her eye. She had barely cracked open the journal when Poe approached her. He had stormed into the cave with an air of authority, but he quickly became subdued when greeting the older woman.

“General?” he asked quietly. “Is this the place?”

Her fingers traced over a page of Aurebesh writing. She would recognize it anywhere.

“Yes,” she replied. “My son was here.”

 

The cave widened here. He knew he had made it. He wasn’t sure how much further he could go; his lungs were raw and every inch of him ached from the strain, but he refused to stop to rest.

The object he had felt in the Force was exactly what the junk in the rest of the cave had been curated to obscure.

It wasn’t the sleekest ship, mind, but there had been a time that the old starhopper was probably a sought-after craft. He couldn’t guess based off of the sediment that coated the ship how long it had been stashed away here, but Ben was willing to bet that whoever had taken pains to hide it so deeply on this smugglers’ rock was the type who was likely no longer alive to recover their vehicle.

He found the release for the cockpit door, and though the hinges groaned with rust, he was surprised that the interior lights flicked to life as soon as he entered the small cockpit.

The staff clinked along the floor as he stumbled over to the pilot’s seat. It took a few quick flicks of various switches for Ben to get the feel for the craft, but it was still newer than his father’s beloved piece of junk freighter. His blood rushing in his ears, his good hand shook as he felt for the switch that would illuminate the fuel meter.

His eyes widened. Somehow this old thing had enough to get off-world. Maybe just enough, but it was something.

He saw a flashing error message: there was a problem with the landing gear. Something he would have to handle later. If there was a later.

He felt the anxiety in the back of his mind flare.

His mother was coming closer.

He couldn’t wait any longer. If he was going to run, he had to go now.

He loosened the sling so he could use his other arm, and began to activate the takeoff sequence.

He felt one more time for Rey. He tugged at the memory of their bond.

Silence.

He felt nauseated. Terrified.

He felt certain in his core she was alive; like the First Order, the Resistance probably had Force-dampening binders, though they likely had planned to only use them on him. He had to believe that she was still alive.

The alternative was too unbearable to comprehend.

He needed Rey back, but the adrenaline in his blood told him he couldn’t stop yet, couldn’t rest, couldn’t look for her yet.

She said go. He had to go.

He heard the long-still engines sputter to life, and in a breathless moment, the ship lifted off the cave floor.

He felt the way out of the cave, tilting the control sticks just-so to dodge major outcroppings of rock.

He saw the dark forest rushing towards him as he sped out of the cave, and as soon as he was clear of the mouth, he punched the accelerator, darting up into the moonless night sky.

The Resistance hadn’t anticipated any departures, so he had a few moments before they would be prepared to pursue him, if they even had their scanners reaching this part of the planet.

He cleared the atmosphere in a matter of seconds, and once he was out of orbit, he allowed himself to think.

He remembered what Rey had said about a ship of their own. Piloting across the galaxy. Returning to a beautiful green planet, to a home. He let his eyes wander to the co-pilot seat next to him.

That was where she belonged. He should have been leaving with her.

The story she had woven of their future together was a simple thing, but the moment she had said it, it had found its way into his imagination, and though the plan was only hours old, it had felt so utterly perfect, he couldn’t fathom how he had arrived at his current situation.

This was what he had hoped for after he first crashed: a way out.

Now it was the last thing he wanted.

He knew he only had a little time before the Resistance starfighters were on his tail.

He had to think of his next destination.

He imagined a life with her so clearly that his heart shattered to imagine anywhere else in the galaxy might be suitable.

The Resistance would be on his tail soon.

He couldn’t turn his back on her, but he couldn’t linger too close to Takodana.

There was enough fuel for one jump.

He looked at the maps. He knew enough about this sector.

It hurt him more than any crash to punch in the coordinates. He almost wished his other leg would break so he didn’t have to pull himself away from Rey.

He needed to stay alive.

He had to be safe for her.

This was the only place he knew he could reach where the Resistance couldn’t follow. He could try running to any nearby planet, but he knew the chances of survival in these parts would be slim.

Besides, he had no money. Even with his ship, he had no fuel. He’d have to sell it to survive. If he sold it, he would have no way back to Rey.

This was the only solution.

He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood as he forced the starhopper into hyperspace, the old craft handling the jump with surprising ease.

He was flying further away from her.

It was what she had commanded of him.

There was no joy in the stars dancing across his vision now.

There was no turning back.

 

“This is Commander Enna Hysra of the First Order flagship _Imperator_ ,” the ship’s ancient communications crackled. “Starhopper, you are now entering a restricted sector. Identify yourself immediately, or prepare to be boarded.”

Ben had completely forgotten himself. The misery that had vanished in the cabin, the cave, in Rey’s light, had returned. For the first time since he entered hyperspace, his eyes flicked back to the controls in front of him, and his vision focused.

 _You know what you must do,_ he reminded himself. The voice almost sounded like Rey was in his head again, but he knew that wasn't the case.

“Starhopper, this is your final warning. Identify yourself, or be obliterated. You have ten seconds to comply.”

He caught his reflection in the viewport. He was covered in a sheet of dust from the cave that had mixed with his sweat to create a layer of grime coating his skin and hair. His hair hung limply around his face. He looked nothing like the Supreme Leader; he looked like Ben Solo, Rey’s lover, the man who would give her a name.

He could only be one at a time. Only one could live to see Rey again.

He took a deep breath.

“The Supreme Leader demands to speak to General Hux at once.”

The voice that came out of his mouth sounded foreign to him, and yet it had come so naturally.

The commander on the communications deck of the _Imperator_ seemed baffled, and the line went silent.

“Is there a problem, Commander?” he asked haughtily.

After another pause, the voice returned.

“I...I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”

“You will bring my ship on board and take me to General Hux at once, by the order of the Supreme Leader.”

Ben took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Tell him that Kylo Ren has returned.”

The final pause was the most pronounced. Finally, the voice returned, assuring him that General Hux would meet with him, and a transport shuttle would be coming for him shortly.

The line went silent, and Ben sighed deeply, sinking back into his chair.

He caught his reflection one more time.

He hadn’t noticed the tears that had begun to roll down his cheeks, cutting lines through the dirt on his face.

With his good hand, he brushed the tears away, and grabbed the staff. Rey’s staff. He clutched it perhaps too tightly.

It seemed to glisten in the starlight.

He looked back at the co-pilot’s chair.

He tugged the thread one more time.

Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> Our revels now are ended.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> We're sorry. We're real sorry. I wish I could tell you it wasn't supposed to end like this, but...actually, that's true. This story grew larger and wilder and more beautiful than we expected, and the second half grew too long that we opted to make a third part of the story.
> 
>  
> 
> There's still more to come. One last part.
> 
> And we've already started writing it.  
> Subscribe to [ The Conceal Me What I Am Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1005258)to get notified when it comes out.  
> 
> 
> For updates, follow me (Killtheselights) on [tumblr](https://kill-these-lights.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (TheLadyoftheHouse doesn't have a tumblr. We're like Penn and Teller. I'm the one who never shuts the fuck up)
> 
> Have a Star War.


	21. Same Sovereign Cruelty Preview

"Still so cruel?"

"Still so constant, lord."

— Twelfth Night, or What You Will, V.I.106-107

 

_"Welcome back, Supreme Leader."_

[The prologue of _Same Sovereign Cruelty_ , the final story in the Conceal Me What I Am series, is now live here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515694/chapters/41262215)


End file.
